


Survivor's Guilt

by Cranksta



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Blind!Jack Origin Musings, Cry with me, Graphic descriptions of war, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It Was Very Therapuetic, M/M, Oh God This Is Just Pure Sadness and Pain, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-01-01 07:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranksta/pseuds/Cranksta
Summary: Headcannon: The Reason Soldier:76 doesn’t use his handgun is because it only has one bullet, and it’s reserved for himself. -Maiden MonsterJust the little story that has been rattling around since reading that tweet.No, it's not going to be very hopeful or happy. But then again, that's normal when it comes to Jack, isn't it?





	1. Mercy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaidenM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenM/gifts).



> Come yell at me on twitter!
> 
> https://twitter.com/Vertizontally

Jack can remember when he started carrying it. The sleek, mass produced .45 caliber glock had been a personal acquisition. Fighting through the muck and mud of a gouged out city on roughly two hours of sleep spread over seventy-two. He could taste the sick, metallic taste of exhaustion on his tongue, the ache in his muscles. He was alone, separated from his team and his commander. He wasn't even sure anyone was looking for him anymore. The place was crawling with Omnics- truly unrelenting and terrifying in their endeavor to rid all signs of human life they could reach.

****

They didn't need to sleep or eat or breathe.

****

But he did.

****

And even SEP couldn't make him as efficient as these machines were. He was human. Vulnerably human.

****

He could feel how sluggish his movements were becoming. Moving was practically an out-of-body experience with the level of mental twilight he was wading in. The adrenaline and super-human enhancements had long lost their usefulness. He felt like a walking corpse.

****

But he couldn't stop. Couldn't rest. They were still following him. Tracking him.

****

He'd read about pursuit predation in college biology class. The act of slowly stalking your prey -not allowing a moment to sleep or eat or drink- until they collapsed from exhaustion and couldn't fight back as they were killed. The chosen method of early homo-sapiens to trap and bring down prey stronger than themselves by using superior stamina and intelligence.

****

It seemed like Man's Children were taking a few notes from their parent's playbook. Retracing humanity's steps to greatness at a pace much faster and efficient than they had ever managed.

****

They'd brought down entire armies like this. How do you fight an enemy that never sleeps?

****

He wasn't an army. He was a single soldier lost behind enemy lines. He had no chance.

****

So he never stopped moving, hoping that he'd eventually find a way back to base- assuming anyone was there waiting for him at this point.

****

The image of Gabriel waiting for him, standing proudly in his command gear, filled his mind.

****

That's right. That's why he kept pushing. Gabriel would never leave him behind. He held onto that image and used it to focus. He had to get back- there was no room for failure.

===========================

****

He crashed backwards against a shattered wall. Day six and he was at his breaking point. He could hardly breathe with how much exertion it had taken to get him here in this broken house- the enemy wasn't far behind. He could hear them- smell the grit and oil in the air.

****

His clip was empty, his hands far too shaky for him to be effective with his combat knife.

****

He laughed darkly as Gabriel's voice drifted into his head. " _It'_ _d be just like you to bring a knife to a fucking gunfight and think you can win."_

****

He couldn't win.

****

The Omnics were closing in on the home- he wondered if they would just collapse the building and leave him to be crushed to death. Or would they send their dogs in and tear him apart limb from limb with laser blades and claws? Maybe, if he was lucky, a Bastion would simply mow down everything at hip height and leave him to choke on his own blood. That seemed like the cleanest way to go- but god he didn't want to die like that.

****

He giggled insanely at the realization that he had so cleanly switched gears from "How do I survive?" to "Which death would hurt the least?" 

****

He dropped his useless rifle to the side as his whole body slumped against the crumbling cinderblock wall. He hung his head and waited for the inevitable. He didn't cry for himself- but instead for Gabriel who by now had been forced to make the call and leave him behind. He knew the man would carry the guilt to his grave.

****

As for Jack? He'd carry the sting of lost opportunities and the ache of love into his.

****

A last surge of adrenaline forced him upright, searching for anything that would let him return to Gabriel's side. It couldn't end like this.

****

Grace came to him in the damnation of another.

****

He crawled through the room, throwing debris wildly when he saw it. The thrilling gleam of heavy, matte grey metal. Without thinking he pulled on it, startling as a hand came up with it. Dried up and curled around the pistol like ivy. He froze, breathing deeply as he yanked the handgun from the grip of the dead. Part of him wished to see the face of the lost soul, but he knew it would've been pointless. The owner of this house was dead, but he was not.

****

He crawled back to his wall, examining the pistol as the sounds of clanking metal approached fast. Too fast.

****

He pulled the clip, breath held and eyes wide with hope.

****

The shine of a single bullet faced him.

****

He cursed, throwing the firearm down. Too late to search for ammunition. Too late to run. Too late to hide. Too late to survive.

****

Peace filled him suddenly and his eyes drooped as his body relaxed.

****

No more fighting. No more fear. His mission was done. He'd done all he could. It was his turn to rest now. He smiled once more at the thought of Gabriel. Gabriel smiling and snorting indignantly at his bad jokes. Gabriel talking to him late in the night when neither of them could sleep. Gabriel forcing him to be a better person- no that's not right. Gabriel forced him to _believe_ in the better person inside himself. _"_ _How can you not see the effect you have? You're like some kind of real-life, cliche, superhero, Jack. Use it."_

****

Gabriel would have to find some other poor sap to drag into his idealistic worldview.

****

Slowly he refocused on the world around him. Dirty, broken, hollow. Nothing like the world he believed in when he was with Gabriel.

****

The sound of janky metal was just beyond the small yard of this once-home.

****

His eyes fell on the glock between his knees.

****

One round.

****

Jack chuckled. That's all he needed, wasn't it?

****

He reached forward, reassembling the handgun as the world around him slowed. He could hear the distant sound of bullets and rockets and panicked mechanical screaming. It didn't matter- all he needed was right here in his hands.

****

He sighed as the magazine clicked into place.

****

He pulled the barrel and cocked the chamber smoothly- second nature to him.

****

Footsteps. Fear rose up- he had to do this now before it was too late.

****

He held the handgun to his temple and sat straight. A movement unmarred by his emotions as they sank into the background with everything else. His eyes closed and he breathed deeply.

****

He hardly felt the impact. His body cradled in warmth and comfort as he fell to the side.

****

He let out his breath.

****

And after a moment he took another.

****

Confused he opened his eyes, seeing nothing.

****

His senses crashed back in on him as reality set in. He was alive. He could feel the quaking chest of the person holding him, the distinct sound of wet sobbing. He hazarded a move, slowly bringing his free arm around the person. Human. Not Omnic. Human.

****

Gabriel.

****

He held tightly as his companion's desperate weeping overwhelmed him.

****

"Gabe." he whispered, the darkness of exhaustion creeped up on him. The promise of safety allowed the weight of the past six days to finally crush him, but he fought.

****

Gabriel pulled away, gripping Jack's face in his hands and examining him with fear and relief in his dampened -yet still beautiful- eyes.

****

He couldn't hear what Gabriel was saying as his abused body finally collapsed. He could feel the floaty feeling of being picked up gently.

****

And the weight of a glock in his lap.

 

One round still in the chamber.


	2. Endurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the Jack we all know.
> 
> Warning for graphic descriptions of suicide and what comes after.

Soldier: 76 wasn't sure if there even was a man under the jacket sometimes.

****

He felt hollow- motivated only by the next mission, the next objective. Always moving, always acting. No time to think or reminisce about the man he'd once been.

****

But sometimes there was a lax in work. Sometimes he had to take a day to heal. Sometimes his body just gave out and he had to wait until it worked again. He didn't feel hunger much anymore, his body carried so much pain already that it was hard to gauge when he was at his limit. His body was a machine and he pushed it as far as it would take him before patching the bare minimum and pushing again.

****

Maybe calling it a machine was too generous. He'd never treated his gear or tools like he did his body. He could remember treating the beat-up old pickup he'd bought as a teen with more respect and care than he did his body.

****

He treated it with malice and disdain. The neglect was purposeful. The thought of caring for himself properly made him grimace. What was the point? He had nothing worth surviving for.

****

But it bit him in the ass from time to time. Like now, as he curled up in another warehouse with a biotic field and a bottle of whiskey. His lead was growing cold with each passing hour- but he just couldn't move properly. Too much energy.

****

He laughed. If Gabriel could see him now.

****

God the man would kick his ass.

****

Then cook him a large meal and mother him until he regained his strength.

****

He could remember when Gabriel had taken in Jesse. The complaining and grouchy demeanor had done very little to cover the fact he was fussing like an overprotective father. At least to himself. Jesse had been terrified enough to do whatever Gabriel told him to.

****

Pain seized his heart as the image of Gabriel flooded him.

****

He wasn't drunk enough for that shit yet.

****

The reality was that he was here alone in a dusty underground safehouse nursing his second bottle of stolen bourbon while the people that had done this ran free.

****

It was all his fault in the end, wasn't it?

****

How long had Talon been inside Overwatch? How long had the U.N. been playing both sides?

****

The end had been so messy. It wasn't quick like the explosion had been. It was a slow death. Botched missions, cut resources, a loss of public faith. He'd been so busy keeping the pieces together that he'd completely missed how angry Gabriel was becoming. They argued and screamed- but it was just another thing on the long list of shit he was dealing with.

****

They stopped talking to each other. Stopped trusting each other.

****

Just like the enemy wanted.

****

Ana's death was the teetering point of their collapse. Without her, there was no sense of cohesion. Gabriel and he had turned on each other like rabid dogs.

****

And yet Gabriel had ran for him when the fire started.

****

And he died for it.

****

Gabriel died for his mistakes. Ana died for his mistakes. Gerard died for his mistakes. Liao died for his mistakes. He could trace every moment to something he'd overlooked or done. Hundreds of people had died for his misguided dreams. He'd tried to create a better world- but he realized now how pointless that endeavor had been.

****

The world was as broken and damaged as he was. It always had been. Just a blind man leading the blind. People would do whatever they could get away with and feel no remorse.

****

It was the nature of humanity to hurt.

****

He swallowed another shot of bourbon as the despair hit him.

****

God. He'd been completely useless hadn't he? He just painted a target on everyone he'd ever cared about and ignored the signs when he could have protected them. It hadn't been worth it. None of it.

****

Ana was dead. Overwatch was dead. Gabriel was dead.

****

All because of him.

****

And he went out and took revenge where he could like it would make a fucking difference. He was no different than them. Just another goon doing what he did best.

****

And fuck it hurt. It hurt to be alone and angry all the time.

****

He threw the nearly empty bottle of alcohol at the wall, shattering on contact. The broken shards caught the beam of moonlight coming in from the basement window and glowed in the dark.

****

Why was he even here? What did he hope to accomplish? He couldn't fix the world. He couldn't even fix himself. Taking out a couple of gangs here and there hardly made a dent in the grand scheme of things. He was nowhere close to finding the people who destroyed his home and the ones he loved. Corruption makes the world go â€˜round and he was just one man.

****

And Gabriel was dead.

****

And he missed him so much.

****

Missed his voice, his smile, his old references and his stupid jokes. His touch. He missed the way Gabriel made him feel human. Wanted. Needed. Gabriel was his world.

****

Then the world looked at him and decided it didn't need him anymore.

****

Who was he to argue?

****

He didn't even remember grabbing it- it was just there. The glock he'd been carrying around since years and years prior. Gabriel had hid it from him when the stress and war got to him, but there was no-one to hide it from him now. There had been so many times where he thought of letting it go, but he'd never been able to.

****

He never kept it fully loaded.

****

There was only one round in the chamber and it was meant for him.

****

The matte finish gleamed in the dark. Carrying it always brought a sense of peace to him. To always have a way out on his own terms. It was his failsafe. He'd nearly used it a couple of times just before a capture or during impossible situations.

****

Jack hated himself- but he didn't hate himself enough to endure a violent death.

****

He'd hurt enough, hadn't he? Surely any punishment waiting for him had been satisfied by now?

****

And god he missed Gabriel so much.

****

Would he be allowed to see him again? Would he be forgiven? The options seemed much brighter than anything here in this grimy room or out there in the world he failed.

****

The movements were mechanical. Habit. He was numb, no tears were shed. It was just an action- one he'd taken against others many times before. Not even the slightest shake in his hands.

****

He sat straight, pressing the muzzle to his temple.

****

He breathed deeply, closing his eyes.

****

And pulled the trigger.

****

\---------------------------------------------------------

****

He felt like he was floating, a ringing sound filling his ears.

****

The room was dark, and something was trying to get his attention.

****

He involuntarily jerked and groaned as pain slowly seeped in.

****

Adrenaline and confusion filled him as his hands flew up to his head as he gasped a silent scream.

****

Why did it hurt so much? What was happening? Why couldn't he see?

****

Was he dead or alive?

****

The pain told him yes, _but he couldn't see anything._

****

The floor was sticky around his face. He tried to get up but his hands slipped in the substance. The room smelled of alcohol and dust and... blood?

****

He gagged as he realized he was laying in his own blood. His breaths came in ragged gasps and whimpers as he tried to make sense of the world around him. His foot kicked something over and he reached for it, finding the still-functioning biotic canister he had set up earlier.

****

He held it close, trying to see the room through it's glow. Wasn't it working? Why couldn't he see it? He forced it up to his nose, smelling and feeling the biotic mist coming off it in waves, yet still not seeing it. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling at them only to find that they were indeed open.

****

Shaking, he felt around the source of the agony in his head. His hair was caked with blood and he touched the area gingerly. He froze as his fingers grazed over a concave in his temple.

****

He dropped the canister and felt the other side, finding the same thing.

****

The bullet had gone through. He should be dead. But he wasn't.

****

He screamed desperately as he realized what happened.

****

He'd seen it happen to other soldiers- a once in a million thing and he'd just had aim good enough to do it himself.

****

The bullet had gone through, hitting nothing vital enough to kill.

****

It had taken his eyesight instead.

****

Tears stung his face as he screamed again.

****

Why? Why couldn't he have just done one thing right in his fucking life? It was all he had left, why did that need to be taken too? How would he live now?

****

How would he fight?

****

Jack Morrison felt around in the darkness, still bleeding and gasping.

****

His hand hit something by his jacket. Gripping it, he felt over the ridges of it as recognition hit.

****

His visor.

****

It wouldn't be the same. It would never be the same, but it would work.

****

He held it up to his face with trembling hands and gently placed it over the neural connectors still intact above his ears. With a beep, the visor spooled up.

****

A agonizing flash of pain forced him to jerk away the tech, but he had seen something. The outline of the room around him as told by the rough electric scans it provided.

****

Soldier: 76 laughed insanely at the discovery.

****

Didn't he know already? He didn't get to rest until the job was done.

****

He had been a fool to think he could step out of the fight.

****

It was all that was left.

****

And he had to follow his fate until the end.

****

There was no peace for someone like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm batting around the idea of doing a third chapter, but I'm not sure what it would consist of. This is pretty much the meat of what I wanted to explore and it was satisfying in and of itself. If anyone has any suggestions let me know.


	3. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about time Jack starts facing his past- even if it takes some encouragement.

He was in Nevada two years later when he made a mistake.

****

Backed into a corner in an abandoned convenience store at the edge of an even more deserted town. He could hear the goons approaching him, but was unable to see them thanks to a well placed kick that had sent his visor skittering away. He supposed he was lucky that the young gangsters didn't recognize him- they wouldn't get to brag about taking down Strike Commander Jack Morrison if they didn't know it was him.

****

No. They just saw him as the meddling vigilante that had come to start trouble and burn their drugs. He'd heard deadlock had been trying to re-root itself in the area and wanted to nip their supplies in the bud before anything could get out. It always started with the fucking drugs. Easy money and easy territories. The heavier shit like weapon running and human trafficking came later once the towns grew reliant on them. He wasn't about to let that happen.

****

He heard glass shatter to his left, along with the noise of boots and cruel laughter. They hadn't found him yet but it would be a matter of time. His pulse rifle was at his side but without the visor it was all but useless. He'd stopped carrying his sidearm after what happened- figured that he'd be better off giving in to whatever fate had in store for him. If anyone told him he'd grown reckless since then he'd deny it, but he knew it was true. He just didn't care anymore.

****

And it looked like maybe someone would finally finish the job he failed to do.

****

But that didn't mean he'd give up easy.

****

When the first gang banger grabbed him, he whipped around into a fierce punch, satisfied at the gasp and crack that met his ears as they let go. He could hear his buddies gather behind him and he sprinted off, tripping on some toppled over shelves and landing haphazardly on the flimsy metal. He groaned and tried to find his footing when he felt hands grab his shoulders, hauling him back over the twisted aluminum and broken glass. He reached back to grab the arms of his attacker, snapping his body up and kicking at them. His boot made contact and the sudden drop was disorienting, he couldn't tell which way was up anymore. He crawled onto his hands and knees before a pain laced up his side as a knee dug into his ribs forcing him onto his back.

****

He couldn't fight back as multiple arms grabbed at him, hauling him upright. His head was pulled up roughly and he heard mocking laughter.

****

He heard a gun cock. He steadied his breathing as the hands on him tightened. This was it.

****

He doesn't even remember what happened, just the sound of an explosion and the feeling of being dropped.

****

He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and the ringing in his head took all control from him. He felt like he was wading through water.

****

Hands. More hands gripping his arm.

****

He surged up and retaliated. His movements were sluggish and clumsy, but he got a few good hits in before he exhausted himself. The hands dropped him and he tried to stand- to run- but he couldn't. The vertigo was too much. He slipped and coughed in the smoke as his senses slowly returned to him. Smell first, the scent of gunpowder and metal and copper filling him. His blood? The goons' blood? He couldn't feel any bullet wounds, just the sore ache of a beating.

****

Hearing was next. Just on the edge of the ringing was the sound of muffled speaking. Pleading? Yelling? He couldn't tell.

****

His hand hit a wall and he used it to balance, pulling himself up.

****

"-us fuck old man, sit yer ass down before ya hurt yerself!"

****

He froze, hands splayed on the wall. The voice was one he recognized. One he'd always recognize if only for the sheer absurdity of it. Something that matched quite well with the absurdity of the person that spoke with it. Silence pervaded the room as the person realized he'd heard them.

****

Jack couldn't help flinching as a firm hand laid gently on his shoulder again.

****

He breathed out and moved to sit with a harsh gasp. It took a few tries to get his throat working- how long had it been since he'd talked to anyone? Much less anyone that knew him.

****

"Jesse."

****

No answer, just another hand on his other shoulder and the gentle pressure of thumbs rubbing the muscle there. Grounding him, like Gabriel had taught him to do when dealing with a panicked agent. He relaxed into the touch and his breathing slowed. He heard Jesse shift and sit next to him before he heard a click and the smell of tobacco filled the air. He heard a breath before the smell got closer.

****

"Terrible fucking habit.", he grumbled before grabbing the clove cigarillo and taking a drag for himself. He passed it back and let the burn fill his lungs before letting the smoke out.

****

"Considerin' what you and the Commander got up to in yer spare time, ya don't got a lotta room to lecture."

****

Jack laughed- a broken, coughing thing.

****

"Cannabis is the only thing that really worked for us, we had our reasons."

****

"There's plenty o' other ways to take it than smokin' it ya fuckin' stoner."

****

Jack laughed a bit more earnestly, settling back against the wall more comfortably as silence filled the room again.

****

"Ya know... There'd be a helluva lotta people that'd be happy to hear yer alive, Commander."

****

He scowled, hands gripping at his knee.

****

"Whole lotta people that wouldn't be.", he said finally.

 

"The, ah, blindness. How'd that happen?", Jesse spoke quietly, almost hesitantly. 

 

"Got shot.", he spat out. Not exactly a lie. Not exactly the truth. Jesse didn't need the gory details. 

 

"Angela might be able to help ya.", he answered softly. 

 

Jack remained quiet, not confirming or denying the claim. Angela probably could help him, but he didn't want to be fixed. He was on borrowed time anyway. 

****

Jesse sighed at his side and he heard the tap of him grinding out his cigarillo before he stood.

****

"C'mon, old man. Let's get ya somewhere we can patch ya up."

****

He nodded and extended his hand, Jesse's grabbing at him and helping him up to his feet. He swayed a little, gripping his side in pain as Jesse maneuvered himself underneath his other arm and propped him up.

****

"Here, I found this outside. Figured it might be important."

****

Jack felt out in front of him and gripped onto the slim ballistic plastic, pulling it close. He leaned against Jesse and pushed the visor in place, gasping as a jolt of pain coursed through his head, but pushing through it to latch it on.

****

"Hey, might wanna wait until ya get somewhere ya can examine it, don'tcha think?"

****

"It always hurts.", he growled back, the visor finally snapping in place as the low hum filled his head and the red outline of the room appeared slowly.

****

He could see Jesse's hand reaching for the faceplate and slapped it away.

****

"It stays on.", he said with warning. He wasn't going to be caught vulnerable again.

****

He was useless without the visor and he wouldn't always have someone there to save him.

****

Jesse sighed, but rewrapped his arm around Jack's side and helped him out of the run-down store and into a pickup.

****

"You speak nothing of this to the others, am I clear?", he spoke into the silence.

****

"...yessir.", Jesse spoke back quietly.

****

He didn't care if Jesse agreed with him, he just wanted to be left alone. There was nothing he had left to offer anyway. He was just a soldier.


	4. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing starts in the heart. 
> 
> Something it takes a woman to know.

Ana was the first to actually _know._

****

They were hiding out in Necropolis when Ana had found him with his visor off, drinking on his cot with his back to the wall. She had always been a silent walker and he nearly jumped out of his own skin when she called quietly out to him. He dropped the empty bottle and scrambled for his visor when her hand covered his and brought them shaking into hers. He turned his head away, feeling entirely too vulnerable. He'd hidden away so she didn't have to see him like this but she'd found him anyway.

****

She'd always been good at seeing right through him. He wondered what he looked like now- a far cry from his previous self. He was no hero, no man of honor. He just fought because it was all he could do. He'd been so happy when he found out Ana was still living and now he wanted to hide from her. Why had he sought her out in the first place? Gabriel didn't want to come home to them. He too had changed. Ana was the only one who still believed there was something worth saving in this new life.

****

He felt her sit down next to him, he itched to just pull his hands away and grab his visor, but he knew she'd scold him. The visor had been too painful to wear regularly lately anyway.

****

"I was starting to wonder if there was even a face left under that mask. It's good to see you after so long, Jack.", she spoke quietly, gently. She might as well have punched him. He would've preferred it actually.

****

His breathing came heavy, chest quivering. He didn't know what to say. He gripped her hand desperately and choked on all the things he wanted to say, but couldn't. Instead he turned towards her and pulled her close, burying his face in her shoulder. He wasn't crying, he didn't know how to anymore. He just needed to feel human.

****

She responded softly, rubbing his arms and back as they shook.

****

Her hands travelled to his hair and the warning bells in his head blared, but he couldn't move. He froze as her fingers lightly spread over his scalp, taking careful time to massage the neural inputs behind his ear. It eased the headache some, but he was too stressed to enjoy it. Slowly, her thumb brushed over the scarred tissue at his temple. He felt her tense and re-run her thumb over the old injury, across the dip in his skull. He jumped then, grabbing her hand and holding it still.

****

"Jack...what is this?"

****

He didn't know how to answer. How to make her understand without saying it. Did he want her to know? Who else could he tell? She'd always kept his secrets. He was safe, wasn't he? He needed someone to know, to help him accept that it happened. The last three years felt like a blur really, like time had stood still from the moment he pulled the trigger.

****

He pulled away and stood up, walking four paces over to where his duffel sat. Specific places for specific things made sure he could always find what he needed. Crouching down, he unzipped it and rummaged around inside until his hand passed over the worn holster. He let out a breath, pulling it out and placing it in his lap as he put his duffel away again.

****

He sat there a moment, just running his hand over the material, the stitching and the straps scraping against his fingers. He held it, the firm weight in his hands as he stood again, making his way back over to the cot. He didn't bother sitting back down next to Ana, instead kneeling next to her legs and fiddling anxiously with the holster. He still couldn't speak. So many things to say, but no way to say it. He sat straight, reaching out for the edge of the cot and startling as Ana's hand once again covered his, offering kindness. She knew. He knew she knew. He had to do it anyway.

****

Gabriel wasn't the only one who knew about his handgun and what it was kept for.

****

He pulled the glock from it's holster, holding it a moment before reaching up and placing it on the cot. The dusty chamber remained pulled back, open and empty. The evidence of his sin.

****

He heard Ana take a sharp breath, her hand tightening around his before letting go.

****

He hung his head, reigning in the emotions ripping through him and hardly noticing when she touched him again. Her hands stroked his hair once more, over the scarring on both sides.

****

"What happened?", she asked, voice tight.

****

He gaped a couple times, struggling to find the words. He had to say it out loud.

****

"T-there wasn't anything left, Ana." It was all he could say. The only confirmation he could give.

****

His chest drew tight as he waited for her judgement. Her hands continued to lightly scrape against him, the motions taking on a gentler approach.

****

"You survived.", came her response quietly in the darkness. 

****

He nodded, shuffling closer and pressing a cheek into her lap, begging for contact. Forgiveness. Understanding. She gave it willingly.

****

"The visor helps you?", she asked.

****

"It lets me fight."

****

"But it hurts?"

****

"Yeah, and it's not as accurate as it used to be."

****

"And the drinking?"

****

Jack tensed, unwilling to face that problem yet. It was a way to cope, even if he knew it was wrong. His father had been an alcoholic too, he knew the signs. He just didn't expect it to be so damn hard to quit. He didn't have a reason to stop anyway. It helped keep him numb.

****

Ana's calm hands never left him, mulling over her next question as she allowed him to keep his silence. Another battle for another day.

****

"Does Gabriel know?"

****

"Why would he care?", he snapped, pulling away and pushing back from the cot.

****

No Gabriel didn't know. They'd never fought with his visor off, and if they did he was sure he'd end up under the muzzle of a shotgun before even realizing it. Just like in Cairo.

****

He reached over, quickly snagging his visor and clipping it onto it's harness.

****

The pain hit him with force, making him gasp and clench to fight the urge to jerk. Slowly, it subsided to a sharp ache, allowing him to focus on the blurry red image of Ana above him. Her hair was loose, coat wrapped around her shoulders and hands in her lap as she gazed at him with sympathy.

****

She knew better than to ask him to take it off, knowing he needed it to feel safe. Instead, she reached out again, stroking the crest of his hairline affectionately. It made him flinch, the contact too much in his pain-addled mind. She smiled softly, pulling away and moving to stand.

****

He was not ready to hear what she had to say.

****

"For two old ghosts, we both work entirely too much. Promise me you'll attempt to get some sleep before we move out tomorrow?"

****

Jack grunted non-committably. He wouldn't sleep, he hardly did anymore. It didn't bring any relief to him. He moved to settle onto his cot anyway, resigned to at least rest.

****

Everyone knew better than to resist Ana. She had ways of making even the strongest men bow to her will. He had no strength to fight back anyway.

****

Ana merely bent over to kiss at his forehead, an echo of the many nights she'd kept him company when things had gone wrong.

****

A pain crossed his heart as he remembered how he'd failed her. She'd given up so much to fight with them, lead with them, and he'd let her fall. Yet she was here as if he'd done nothing wrong. He didn't deserve it, but he was grateful to not be alone anymore.

****

Ana turned away in the darkness and Jack called out to her as she approached the doorway.

****

"Thank you.", he spoke out tiredly. Ana merely smiled.

****

"Always, Jack."

****

He didn't remember her leaving, just the weight of sleep as it overcame him.

****

She would be there in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ana. She's strong and soft and kind and snarky. I wish I could write her better. I hope this didn't come off as disjointed as it felt.


	5. Vulnerablity

Jack hadn’t expected things to go like this. 

He sat on the edge of his bed in the corner of his darkened room inside of a facility he never thought he’d see running again. With people he thought he’d never see again. 

Jesse was right, they had been happy to hear he was alive.

Ana and he had gotten themselves backed into a corner with their activities after a year of action and they’d needed protection and help. Ana had dragged him fighting and screaming straight to Gibraltar. He still remembered the way that Lena jumped into his arms sobbing, the way Reinhardt had almost crushed him after sweeping Ana into a group hug. He’d just stood there silent, unsure how to cross the bridge that divided them now.

He was no longer the man they remembered. He would never be him again, his only mission now was to fight for as long as he can before something or someone put him in the ground where he belonged. He isolated himself here in this room or in the training facility any time there wasn’t a mission that Winston required him on. Small mercies he supposed- that they hadn’t tried to make him their leader again. The scientist was doing a fair job keeping them all together.

He could tell that the team wanted to connect with him again, but he just couldn’t. There was nothing left.

He didn’t take the visor off anymore. Too many prying eyes and the relief of removing it didn’t outweigh the pain of reconnection anymore. The constant electric whine in his head was easier to deal with than the jolt of shrieking pain that accompanied a reconnection. Just as well, he supposed. He didn’t want the team to pity him when they realized what happened to him.

Angela had tried to get him into her lab earlier for a physical. He’d walked away and now he was holed up here for the foreseeable future. The doctor couldn’t be ignored forever, but he wasn’t ready yet. He needed time.

He’d hide for as long as he could get away with it.  
\-----------------------------

He woke to sirens.

Shouting, he bolted upright and lunged for his gear at the foot of his bed. His hands shook, the sound sending him back to that day in Zurich. He couldn’t get his boots on- hurtling them across the room with a cry. The team needed him and he couldn’t get ahold of himself enough to even get out the door.

God, why was it always like this?

The panic rocked through him, making everything numb and slow. He brought his hands up to cup the visor around his ears, trying to block the sound blaring through his room. It remained, transforming the panic into fury as the screaming burned into his head.

He barely remembers what comes next, just the feeling of pure rage as he throws anything he can get his hands on. He vaguely recalls the door opening, then shouting, the sting of a needle. Then two. Then three. And finally the way the room spins as he falls to his knees and then his back as a blurry form leans over him. The sounds of the sirens dull to a distant chirping, his eyes are heavy but it’s not enough to put him out. He doesn’t let it, the panic and anger is still coursing through him.

“Jack…”, he hears as if through water. Ana. It’s Ana. Thank god it’s Ana.

He can’t respond, his mouth isn’t working. He hardly feels the way she rolls him onto his side to recover from the darts, the way she checks him over for injuries. She spares his visor, leaving him whatever dignity he has left like this. The world is coming back to him in waves as his metabolism works through the tranquilizing biotics. The sirens have stopped, it’s just them in this dark room that he destroyed. He can see the twisted corner of his metal bedframe from where he lays.

God. That could’ve been a person. It could’ve been Ana. Or Jesse. Or _Lena_.

His chest heaves, shaking as he sobs. Ana is there stroking his hair as he tries to make sense of what just happened. He knows what it was- he’d experienced effects for years, but it’d never made him do this.

Ana is trying to talk to him, but he can’t focus.

The screaming in his head drowns everything.  
\--------------------------------------

They assign him a new room. Ana hasn’t spoke a word about what happened, just gets him somewhere more quiet. Farther away from the team. Neither of them say why, he just accepts his new quarters gratefully. Ana wants him to get help, he know she does, but at least she has the decency to keep it to herself. She knows just as much as he does that he’d rather hide his suffering as much as possible.

And if he ever needed a reason to, it’s now.

The sirens had been because of Reaper.

He was on base now, in their infirmary under a fragile sanctuary. He’d been bleeding and fragmenting when he arrived, barely made it to their walls before Athena spotted him and warned the whole team. He hadn’t asked for help, merely thrown down his mask and let them all see who he was before collapsing.

They were waiting for him to wake before making any further decisions. The whole base was in shock- unsure what to do.

Winston had come to him for advice. _Him_. His hands dug into his knees, knowing exactly why the scientist sought him out. They had been together once, before everything happened. Winston thought it appropriate to leave Gabriel’s fate in his hands.

He’d sat in silence, mulling over the flood of emotions filling him before taking a deep breath and letting it go. He supposed Gabriel deserved a chance to defend himself.

He doesn’t like the sharp sting of hope that infects him.  
\----------------------------

It turns out that his decision is a good one.

Gabriel has information. The missing links that he and Ana had been scouring for for years, and he had been trying to worm his way into the position to take revenge for years.

Talon had found out.

Gabriel had nowhere to go but straight to the people he’s been hurting for six goddamn years.

He tries to have sympathy for him, but can’t manage it. The anger he feels outweighs everything. Neither of them would be having to take revenge if Gabriel had just _talked_ to him.

But no, he knows that’s not right either. Gabriel had tried to talk to him. Many times. There was too much happening, too much going wrong. They got so angry at each other. Blaming, accusing, mistrusting they had ripped asunder any chance of stopping Overwatch’s collapse within a matter of months. He was too stubborn- Gabriel was too angry.

So many things he wished he hadn’t said. Wished he hadn’t done.

But now- well he wasn’t sure what to do. Gabriel hadn’t denied his part in the fall, just that he’d done it on purpose. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone but the corrupt assholes that destroyed his life’s work and the people he loved.

And well… look where that got them.

He didn’t know what to do with the information. He kept his distance, refused to see or speak to Gabriel. The man wasn’t an agent yet, he was still recovering from his injuries and Angela was trying to fix his erratic body. He had given Ana and Winston copies of his data and plans were being made, but Jack itched to act. He had names, that’s all he needed. But he couldn’t do it alone.

So he waited.  
\-------------------------------------------

Months go by and Gabriel is one of them again. Jack is still getting used to it- to seeing him at briefing tables and in the hallway. Gabriel still tries to approach him alone sometimes. He’s gotten good at ignoring him and heading for his room. He hasn’t spoken a word to the man outside of missions since he’s been recruited. It’s much easier to keep his silence than attempt to voice what’s going on in his head. He tries not to notice the disappointment and sadness in his eyes.

What did Gabriel expect of him, really? That everything was going to be okay now that they were on the same side again? That they would talk and fuck and go back to where they were? The audacity infuriated him.

But part of him wanted that. Part of him wanted to just let go of the anger and hurt and finally love Gabriel again. He found that a bottle of bourbon made the ache a hell of a lot easier to deal with. He wouldn’t let Gabriel in- couldn’t let him in. There was nothing left of him to love.  
\-----------------------------------------

Everything comes to a head all at once. Gabriel tries to talk to him in the training room and he just _loses it._ The pulse rifle clatters to the ground as he spins and clocks the wraith square on the jaw. It starts a chain reaction, the two of them shouting and grabbing and kicking and punching. Years of frustration and anger and hurt come pouring out on the training room floor. Jack can taste blood in his mouth, he’s slow to react as the visor has a hard time focusing where he needs it to anymore. Gabriel hits just as hard as he remembers and god it feels _good_.

He feels Gabriel’s ribs crack underneath his fists, the satisfaction flooding him as Gabriel gasps and staggers. He knows Gabriel is enjoying this too- he would’ve ghosted out of his reach otherwise. What they can’t say in words they say in fists- a conversation that only the two of them can speak the language of.

But suddenly Gabriel is getting the upper hand and the last thing he sees is a fist flying at the corner of his visor.

He doesn’t even have time to scream, the pain paralyzes him and he crumbles to the floor. The old, battered visor is sparking, sending threads of electricity through his abused neurons straight into his brain.

Gabriel watches in horror as Jack seizes on the ground.

He screams for help as he drops to the mat and pins him down, clawing at the visor as tears drip down his cheeks. He finally pries it away and the seizure loses its intensity, but Jack is still writhing and twitching.

He ignores the pain in his side as he lifts the man into his arms and bolts to the infirmary.

He doesn’t remember Jack ever feeling so light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe someone asked for more pain?


	6. Strength

Gabriel sits and watches, hands curled into the arms of the chair as he compulsively counts each shallow breath that Jack takes. The machines beeping quietly behind his shoulder do little to ease his fear. He's not the only one there, Ana is sitting on the opposite side of the room, gently holding Jack's limp hand. They've done this before, in various combinations throughout the years. There's a certain comfort in it- almost a sense of normalcy.

****

But they're not 30 anymore and this isn't normal.

****

On paper, all of them are dead. In reality? He's not really sure anymore. Especially not with Jack looking so frail in the sterile sheets of the infirmary bed. They're not friends anymore, Jack and he aren't even talking. Ana is... Ana is trying to keep things together despite her own issues. He knows that Fareeha's and her relationship is tense and brittle, that Reinhardt is heartbroken. Gabriel knows that she wants to do more, but there's this air of helplessness about her as she's rubbing Jack's hand with her thumb. Like she's nothing more than a ghost.

****

Gabriel has been trying to repair his own relationships. Genji is a surprising source of support, understanding in different ways. Jesse was hesitant at first, but had given him a chance to make up for his mistakes. Reinhardt and Torbjorn were disappointed in him, but have given him room to prove himself. Angela was looking out for him and helping him feel whole again, Ana didn't shy away from him when he sat to join her for breakfast. The newbies were harder to convince, but they took a liking to him quickly enough.

****

It wasn't always easy and he had a long way to go before the deeper wounds were cleaned and healed, but he felt lucky. He'd forgotten what it was like to be in a group of people that actually _cared_. The only person missing was Jack.

****

He hadn't expected Jack to just welcome him with open arms, but he hadn't expected to be completely shut out either. What surprised him is how naturally it seemed to come to him, how hiding had become second nature. He'd asked Ana about it once, but she had just shaken her head and told him, "We all have our ways of coping."

****

He stared at Jack on the bed and realized that no, he wasn't coping at all. He was underweight, maybe not for an average person, but certainly for _them._ The muscle in his arms looked tight, standing out in far too defined ways underneath the sickly pallor of his skin. The scars on his face were jagged, as if he'd merely stapled his face back together and forgotten about it. And if what Angela had told them was true, and by Ana's lack of reaction he assumed it was- Jack had been fucking blind for god knows how long.

****

The visor had been all that was keeping him on the field, but it was not built for it. It was an aid, not a replacement. Winston said it was malfunctioning, deteriorated after years of misuse. He had cast its readings onto a holoprojector to illustrate his point. The room slowly came into focus on it, bathed in red as snowy outlines appeared. It couldn't read faces or barely anything out past ten feet. Just vague shapes and lines of information, targets appearing over each individual in the room.

****

Gabriel couldn't imagine fighting like that, much less living with it. Angela had inspected the neural ports on his head and found high level nerve degeneration- tried to explain just how painful something like that is. She'd nearly cried, trying to make sense of why he never came to her for help. She was doing what she could now, pumping him full of biotics and stimulants hoping to regenerate the damaged nerves. There was a certain hollowness in her expression when he'd asked if there was any way to bring back his eyesight, shaking her head as she held her clipboard close. He wanted to press, but Ana had placed a hand on his shoulder and urged him away for coffee while Angela finished her work.

****

He knew there was something they weren't telling him, but he couldn't exactly make demands. Jack and he had lost each other's confidence a long time ago. He was on the outside now.

****

But looking at Jack laying there like a corpse, he wanted to throttle them all until he had his answers.

****

He leaned forward, tracing a finger gently across Jack's bony hand and tried to pull himself together. He'd put Jack here. He'd let his anger get the best of him again and now Jack was fighting for his goddamn life. Jack had struck first, but he'd let himself take the bait. He could've just left, but instead he put Jack in a fucking coma.

****

His side ached a little still from where Jack had broken a few ribs, but he was recovering well. Jack would probably be here for a few days yet depending on if the biotics worked.

****

He wanted to hold Jack's hand and tell him he'd be okay. He knew he didn't have the right to.

 

Instead he watched Jack breathe, unmoving.

****

"How long has he been like this, Ana?", he finally spoke into the tense air of the night.

****

Ana shifted in her chair, straightening as she ran a hand through his thin hair. "Since before he found me.", she answered.

****

"And you just let him?", he shot back.

****

Ana leaned back, arms in her lap. "I had no say in the matter. He's a grown man, he can take care of himself, Gabriel."

****

"This isn' taking care of yourself Ana! You can see his fucking _ribs_. What the fuck has he been doing for the last six years?", he nearly shouted back, frustrated.

****

"...Surviving.", Ana spoke back softly, sadly.

****

Closing his eyes, he leaned back reigning in his temper. Ana wasn't to blame for this. Surviving was what they were all doing, Jack had just been the worst at it.

****

\----------------------------

****

Two days later and Jack was still sleeping. Angela said he was taking to the treatments, but that it might be awhile before progress was made. The coma was for his own good at this point, the nerves able to repair quicker while he was under. He waited anxiously for news.

****

He woke up to Ana touching his shoulder one night, having fallen asleep in his chair by Jack's bedside. There was heaviness in her eyes, it took a moment for her to speak.

****

"Come with me, Gabriel. I'll tell you what you need to know."

****

His back popped as he stood, anxiously peering back at Jack's form on the bed as he followed her out of the room. She led him down a towards the barracks, stopping at a door that had been put under lock, perhaps a hallway away from his own. The other agents were asleep, no-one saw as they slipped inside it.

****

Light poured in from the hallway as he moved, having to step over a... chair? to get into the room. It smelled dusty, stale as he reached for the light.

****

He wasn't ready for the chaos that met him.

****

The furniture was destroyed- a difficult task considering much of it was metal. Dents in the walls, broken glass under his feet. The bedframe lay some ways away, warped in the middle with _fingerprints_ pressed into the rails. This kind of destruction was impossible for a normal person, but as he looked back at Ana in the doorway, he knew that it wasn't a normal person who'd done this.

****

"Is this...?" he started.

****

"Jack's room just before you arrived. The sirens...", she answered, waving vaguely at the chaos.

****

He clenched his jaw shut, glancing around the room again. It reminded him of his old quarters in Talon. In the beginning of his creation, he'd been in so much pain, full of so much fear and anger that he'd ripped apart everything he could get his hands on. Jack had done this on pure adrenaline, like a trapped animal. His breath came short. Jack had been doing okay just before the fall, his PTSD had been managed for years. Had he just forgotten how to cope?

****

He turned around, ready to leave the room and process the knowledge when something knocked at his feet. He bent down, picking up a half shattered bottle of whiskey. He held it, staring and trying to form words. Looking around, he saw a few more bottles in a similar state. His mouth went dry.

****

"Jack's fucking, _drinking?"_ , he shouted, taking Ana by surprise.

****

He could remember the nights Jack would talk about his father. The shit the asshole did while drunk out of his mind, the kind of things that haunted Jack for years. The kind of shit that made running away to the army a fucking dream he'd had since he was a teen. Jack had sworn he'd never be like him, but there's a broken bottle of liquor in his hand and a destroyed room around him and he couldn't stop the anger. Alcohol never solved problems. Jack knew better.

****

He let the bottle slip from his hands, shattering on the floor and stepping over it to leave the room. He leaned against the corridor, waiting for Ana as he processed everything. No, Jack was definitely not doing okay.

****

Ana's hand is on his shoulder again and he turns sharply to face her. "Why are you showing me this, Ana?"

****

Ana looked down, an air of guilt in her posture. "You can do what I can't. He doesn't listen to me."

****

"And he'll listen to me?", he spat back.

****

"...he might. You still mean more to him than you know, Gabriel.", she reached out for his hand, holding it between hers and squeezing. He squeezed lightly back, sighing. Was she right? Did he have a chance to make things right?

****

"There's more, if you want to see it.", she said, pulling back. Allowing him an out, an opportunity to say no and walk away if that's what he wanted.

****

He breathed deeply. He was in this far, he wanted to know everything. Anything that could help him make sense of the Jack that was lying in an infirmary bed like a warmed corpse. He wouldn't walk away this time. 

****

"Show me."

****

Ana took him a few hallways away, an area of the barracks that was isolated and quiet. The perfect hideout for someone wanting to stay out of sight.

****

This room was in order, thank god. Messy, with more of those fucking bottles on the desk, but intact. He went for those first, swiping the empty ones into the bin and grabbing the full ones and disappearing into the bathroom.. As he poured the bottles into the sink, he could see Ana in the mirror, an almost relieved expression on her face as he disposed of them. He looked away, focusing on his task, wondering how long Ana had been wanting to do this herself but too afraid of being shut out.

****

He was already on Jack's shit list. He couldn't care less if Jack hated him for this. He would walk in here and do this every fucking day if he had to.

****

He threw the last of the bottles away, and went back to the room, waiting for whatever else she had to throw at him. She was sitting on the bed, a duffle bag at her feet and a holster in her lap.

****

His hackles raised at the sight of it. He could see the grey matte handle sticking out of the holster and knew exactly what it was. He could still remember the day Jack had found it, the way he almost didn't make it to him in time to stop him from using it. He'd clung to the pistol like some kind of safety blanket for years, forcing him to play keep-away when Jack's depression got the worst of him. Jack had always told him that he wouldn't use it unless it was his last resort but he didn't risk it either way. The way Jack was enamored with the thing made him endlessly uneasy. 

****

Of course Jack would manage to bring it out of Zurich with him. Enough med supplies to put his face back together? No. But a shitty mass-produced glock that he held onto for the sole-purpose of killing himself? Absolutely.

****

Ana didn't move, just holding the pistol in her lap and staring down at the floor.

****

"Ana...", he growled out, needing answers.

****

"You have to understand, Gabriel. This was before my time, I don't know everything."

****

"Show me, Ana. You've made me a part of this now _show me."_ , he demanded.

****

She looked up, hesitated a moment, then pulled the pistol from its holster, holding it out to him.

****

He grabbed at it carefully, suddenly all rage gone. The chamber was open, the inner barrel coated in gunpowder. Jack had kept it meticulously clean, he would've never left it like this.

****

Unless.

****

He popped the clip, the empty cartridge yawning back at him.

****

Blood rushed in his head, drowning out whatever Ana was trying to say to him. He moved before he realized it, dropping the pistol on the floor and dissolving into mist down the corridor.

****

He could sense Ana running after him, but he paid no attention. He had to get to the infirmary.

****

Rematerializing at the foot of Jack's bed, he pulled the clipboard from the foot of his bed, flipping through it. Medical nonsense plastered the pages as he scanned for _something_ that would stick out to him.

****

_"_ _Optic nerve damage due to severe head trauma: unresponsive to treatments."_

****

_Head trauma._ So that's what Angie was calling it. He placed the clipboard back, moving to the head of Jack's bed. He wanted proof. Needed proof. If what he thought happened did happen, then there would be evidence. Even their rate of healing couldn't hide something like that.

****

His hands were shaking as he pulled at Jack's head gently, brushing his fingers through his hair. He could hear Ana calling to him just down the hallway, but as his fingers fell into a dip in his temples, time stood still. He stopped breathing, tears welling in his eyes as he ran his fingers over the soft scarring just under his hair.

****

Jack had done it. He'd used the fucking glock.

****

A keen ripped from his throat as the pieces came together. The blindness, the way he was treating himself, his disinterest in anything that wasn't a mission, the isolation.

****

Jack had tried to die. Was still trying.

****

Gabriel staggered back into his chair, hands flying up to grip his hair as he sobbed. Grief filled him, his body going numb. Jack had tried to fucking kill himself.

****

Ana grabbed his shoulder and he jerked upright, meeting her eyes as she tried to wipe away her own tears. He bolted out of the chair, pulling her close as they let out their fear and pain. How long had Ana been keeping this secret? How long had she been watching him slowly wither away unable to do anything about it?

****

Promises fell from his lips. Promises to make it better, to take care of him. To heal him.

****

Gabriel didn't know if he believed the words he said, but as he watched Jack breathe in the bed, he couldn't help but feel that he'd been given a second chance to make things right.

****

He just hoped there was still time.


	7. Submission

Jack groaned as he woke, or attempted to given how dry his throat was. His hands clawed at the bed as he tried to pull himself upright- vertigo and nausea forcing him back down. Panic clutched him as he realized he didn’t know where he was. He fought full-body shakes and numbness to grasp at the bed around him, finding an IV and the rails of a hospital bed and…- he stiffened as a hand gently traced over his. 

It was smaller than his own, warm. He gripped at it, tracing his thumb over the fingers and palm to make sense of who it belonged to. He knew who it belonged to, but he just couldn’t find a name or a face. Another hand brought a paper cup to his own, helping him sit up and properly grip it before letting him bring it up to his lips. The water went down like fire- his throat clenching painfully as it went down. How long had it been since he’d last drank? How long had he been in this bed? Who was-

“Can you hear me, Jack?”

He frowned a moment. That was his name wasn’t it? He couldn’t say for certain, but it sounded right. He nodded, squeezing the hand that had since resettled into his palm. 

“Do you know who I am?”, the voice asked again. Female. Calm. A flash of recognition passed over him as a face came to mind, but it was gone as soon as it came. He reached out shakily, trailing his fingers up the person’s arm before finding a shoulder and then a jaw. He mapped the face carefully, taking note of the sharp cheekbones and small nose. An image slowly formed in his mind and finally shocking him with recognition as he felt long hair tied up into a loose ponytail. 

“Angie.”, he rasped out, feeling the way the doctor smiled before taking his hand away and setting it back down on the bed. Angela, this was Angela’s lab. How did he get here?

“Do you remember how you were hurt, Jack?”, she asks, he can hear a level of worry in her voice, but she’s patient and kind. She seems to understand just how hard it is for him to string together thoughts and words, gives him time to collect himself. 

He brings his hands to his face, trying to coax feeling back into it while he grasps at bits and pieces of memory. His face is rough, his beard has at least four...maybe five days growth on it? What was he doing a week ago? Another cup of water is pressed against him and he takes it eagerly. He squeezes at his forehead, the sudden appearance of pain irritating him and keeping him from drinking again. Angela notices the change in his demeanor, presses two pills into his palm and massages the back of his neck as he takes them. 

The effect takes a little bit, but he sinks back into the sheets when he feels it. He’s tired, but confused. Why can’t he remember what happened?

“You were in the training room, do you recall, Jack?”, Angela asks as her hand squeezes his upper arm soothingly. 

Yeah, he can remember that. Someone had startled him- no that wasn’t right. He’d gotten angry at someone. Attacked them. Why…? 

Another image flashed in his head. The red static outline of Gabriel as they tore into each other. He’d been too slow, gotten hit and then the pain…

“My visor?”, he rasped. 

“Yes Jack. It malfunctioned and sent you into seizure. You’ve been in a coma for five days now.”, Angela confirmed, helping him piece together the rest of the image. 

“Gabriel?”, he asks unsure how to phrase what he’s thinking. 

There’s silence, but the doctor does answer finally. “Yes, you two got into a fight and he cracked your visor, sending you here. How do you feel?”

He frowns again. It made sense, yet it didn’t. Gabriel was a friend ...right? Something in the back of his mind prickled at the suggestion. Abandoning that exhausting and confusing train of thought, he yawned. He was tired, sorting through his memories was a draining experience.

“I’m… tired.” he manages to mumble out before relaxing into the pillows. 

He rolls onto his side sluggishly, minding the IV and curling into himself. He felt Angela’s hands pulling up the sheets around him, squeezing his shoulder before speaking again. “We’ll talk later, Jack. Get some rest.”

He hardly remembers falling asleep. 

\--------------------------

When Gabriel wakes the next day, it’s to a message from Angela about Jack’s progress. She had shooed him out of the lab finally the day before and apparently it was just in time for Jack to wake and begin rehab. He was doing well to remember things, but Angela was still concerned over his ability to think and process. 

Relief hit him- Jack was going to be okay. A couple of days to get his bearings and he’d be walking around again. He shoots a message to Ana. 

‘How long until Jack demands mission time you think?’

A minute passes before his phone lights up.

‘Three days.’

He smiles. In some ways, Jack hadn’t changed at all. 

\------------------------------

Ana was wrong, Jack barely sat still for two days before beginning to bug Angela about being discharged. That didn’t surprise him in the slightest, but what did surprise him was that he was asking for his old visor back. The old bastard never knew when enough was enough. Angela did discharge him, but without his visor and that left Gabriel in the situation he was now. 

Jack hadn’t been seen for two days. He answered messages, but hadn’t left his room since being allowed on his own.

And now Lena and Jesse were crowding him in the kitchen asking him to go drag him down for dinner. 

He scratched at the back of his neck and looked away. He wanted to check on Jack yes, but he wasn’t sure that manhandling him to dinner was the right way to go about this. He understood that the team was worried though and relying on him to take whatever terror Jack dished out once disturbed. 

And he’d made a promise. 

So he compromised, instead making up a few plates and volunteering to take them to Jack’s quarters and making sure that he ate something at least. 

He was nervous walking all the way back. Jack remembered what happened, and now he was even more vulnerable than before without his visor. There was about a 10 out of 10 chance that Jack would slam the door in his face as soon as he realized it was him. Sneaky tricks it was, then. 

He reached Jack’s door, taking a deep breath before knocking sharply. No answer. 

He rapped again, more insistently this time. Still no answer. 

Frowning, he waited a moment before knocking again. This time he heard a crash on the other side of the door, some muffled cussing, and finally the door opening and a very dishevelled Jack Morrison greeting him angrily. 

“What do you want?”, he snapped. 

Gabriel did not answer, instead slipping right past the soldier and into his room, bumping on the overhead light with his elbow as he glanced around looking for a place to set down his plates. He moved aside some items on the small desk and set them down with an official clatter, letting Jack hear him without knowing it was him. As he sets out the utensils and napkins, he eyes a whiskey bottle on the edge of Jack’s nightstand. It’s nearly empty. 

For fucks sake. 

He swipes it into his pocket, making as little noise as possible and checking for another. He hopes that it’s the last of Jack’s stash, but he knows better. He’ll just have to barge in here tomorrow and make sure that there isn’t another. 

Jack is still standing in the doorway, a look of utter dumbfoundment on his face. A face that hasn’t been shaved in far too long to be comfortable for the normally smooth-faced soldier. He frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He knew Jack wouldn’t be okay when he saw him. 

Jack breathes in before speaking. “I can smell your fucking shampoo, Reyes. You’ve been using the same thing for years. Why the fuck are you here, the kids send you after me?”

Gabriel folded his arms, annoyance setting in. Didn’t Jack understand the level of worry everyone on base felt? But he couldn’t let the frustration win. 

“You were in a coma four days ago, asshole. You can’t just disappear and expect to be left alone.”, well… there was an attempt. 

“And whose fault is that, Reyes?”, Jack snapped back at him. 

Yeah. He thought as he closed his eyes, he deserved that. 

He relaxed his shoulders, evening his tone. “I brought you dinner, figured no-one has seen you around base in a few days and whatever you have stashed in here is not enough to make up for a weeklong liquid diet. It’s Reinhardt’s.”

Jack remained unmoving. 

“You need to eat, Jack. You know what happens if you don’t keep up with the enhancements.”

Jack sighed, dragging his hand along the wall as he moved unsteadily towards the plates. 

“You’re lucky I’m hungry.”

He relaxed. At least Jack didn’t reject dinner outright because of him. 

“You plan on just staying here watching me eat?”, he heard Jack growl from his desk. 

“Uh, not really. I brought my plate too. Figured I’d take dishes back out once we were done.”, he suggested uncertainly. 

Jack didn’t answer, but didn’t make room for him at the desk either. Gabriel sighed and grabbed his plate, leaning against the wall and picking at the veggies first to settle his nerves. He watched Jack eat… or well attempt to. His hands shook and he seemed unfocused. Effects of the seizure? He’d have to tell Angela. That’s part of why he was here after all. 

He didn’t say anything. If Jack didn’t want to talk about it then it wasn’t something he’d bring up. 

They finished their dinner in silence, Gabriel collected the plates and made to leave, hesitating at the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t even try to ignore me or I’ll bring Ana with me.”

Jack stiffened, but nodded his consent. 

As he moved to leave, Jack spoke again. “Thanks.”

Gabriel shifted nervously. “...No problem.”

He let the door slide shut behind him, a small smile following him all the way to the kitchen. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

\--------------------------------

Jack answered the door the next day on the second knock, and when Gabriel made his way inside, Jack didn’t fight him. He glanced over at the nightstand to find an empty glass- but no bottle in sight. Either Jack had wised up to Gabriel’s liquor stealing or he’d run out of hidden booze. Gabriel hoped it was the latter, but bet on the former. Eventually he’d have to bring it up to Jack, but not quite yet. Not until Jack had fully recovered. 

Dinner was silent like the previous night, but as Gabriel watched Jack eat, he couldn’t help questioning him.   
“So why haven’t you been around base? Haven’t even seen you at training and it’s not like you to stay idle.”, he asked as carefully as possible given the mood of the moment. Jack likely wouldn’t tell him anything unless it was to defend himself. 

Jack froze a moment, before setting down his fork. “No visor.” 

He remained quiet. 

“I… can’t really get around without it.”

Gabriel nearly drops his fork. 

“So you’re telling me that you haven’t left your room because you can’t?”

Jack prickled. “It’s not like I spent a lot of time wandering around in the first place.”

Another bought of silence.

Jack sighed. “Didn’t really get a lot of time to adapt to life without the visor. I always had it. Worried about getting lost and having someone think I’m senile.”

Gabriel sighs heavily. At least Jack was sharing. 

“Is that also why you look like a lumberjack? I’ve never known you to purposefully miss your morning shave.”, he asked gently. Jack noticeably stiffened, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“Yes.”, he grumbled. 

Gabriel groaned, setting down his plate and reaching for Jack’s arm and pulling, ignoring the way he jolted at the touch. “You’re coming with me, viejo.”

Jack -by the grace of the saints themselves- didn’t argue for once and let Gabriel drag him into the bathroom. He stood Jack in the corner while preparing the water, fishing under the cabinets for his grooming bag. Pulling out supplies and the dual-sided steel safety razor, he set everything on the countertop. 

“Reyes, I don’t…”, he spun around as Jack tried to protest, shushing him. 

“No, I know you and I know you’re crawling in your own skin right now. I’m the only other person here that knows your routine and I can help.”, he reached for Jack’s arm only to get swatted off. 

He tried again, reaching forward, “Jack, just let me-”

“No!”, Jack shouted, shoving him sharply back against the counter. 

When Gabriel re-centered himself, he looked up to see Jack backed up into the frame of the shower door, arms held up tight and hands stiff. His shoulders were hunched forward, head tilted down in clear protective posturing. Gabriel’s throat ran dry as his stomach dropped. 

He’d fucked up again. Jack didn’t want to be touched, least of all by him.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I just wanted to help.” He stumbled over his words, trying to take back the harm he’d done.

“I don’t need your help, Reyes. You’ve done what you were sent here to do, now get out.”, he growled, arms crossing over his chest. 

He didn’t argue, just walked past the old soldier and back into the bedroom. He quickly gathered the plates and left, letting the door shut behind him. 

Everyone in the kitchen knew something was wrong, but he remained silent. Quickly cleaning up, he left the room- taking his cloud of self-anger with him.

\----------------------------

Ana had encouraged him to try again, and that’s why he was standing in front of Jack’s door the next day at the usual time. Technically, another agent could do it. Hell even Ana could, but that wasn’t the point of the thing. He was supposed to be making amends with Jack. 

When Jack finally opened the door, he did his best to hold his tongue at just how bad he looked. Bags under his eyes, tiredness in his posture, and worse of all was the bad shave job that took up most of his face. Patchy and uneven with cuts littered across his jaw, he looked like he’d fought the razor instead of actually using it. 

“Umm, I brought dinner. Can I come in?”, he asked as Jack continued to block the doorway. 

Jack scoffed. “Oh look, he’s fucking asking for once. Deserves a goddamn cookie.”

He flinched at the venom in his voice, shifting nervously on his feet.

“I can just leave it and come back later for the dishes if you want to be alone?”

“Why are you being such a pain in my ass, Reyes? Who put you up to this? Ana? Angela? I don’t need a fucking babysitter and I don’t need your fucking pity.”, he spat. 

Gabriel took a step back, clenching his teeth as his own anger spilled forward. “Maybe if you stopped acting like a child then we wouldn’t treat you like one! You’re in here hiding and trying to pretend like everything is okay when it’s not. Everyone is worried, asshole. We want to help.” 

“I don’t need your help!”, Jack shouted back.

Gabriel pushed Jack aside and stepped into his room, setting the now-cold plates on the desk. Jack remained by the doorway, hand gripping the frame.

“Do you know what it was like, watching you in that fucking bed and getting more and more information about just how badly you’ve been treating yourself? Angela stayed up for days trying to come up with the right formula to get your fucking nerves working again. Ana was worried sick! You could’ve told any of us that you needed new equipment, but you just kept quiet. What if your visor had given out on the field, huh? On a mission?”

“Reyes-”

“You’d be fukcing dead, Jack!”

“Gabriel-”

“Or is that what you want? Did you want us to all watch you die- helpless to save you? Ana showed me your old room, Jack. The drinking, the PTSD, the depression, we know Jack. Stop pretending like you can just put on that jacket and be someone else.”

“Gabe-”

“I know Jack! I know what you did-”

“Gabe, STOP.”

Gabriel drew in a sharp breath, becoming aware of himself. He had Jack’s shirt in his fists, body crowding his into a corner. He relaxed his grip, stepping back and letting his fingers spread over Jack’s chest. Jack was shaking underneath him, tears dripping down his cheeks. Gabriel became aware of his own tears then, sniffing a bit as he wiped at them and stood back farther. 

“We… I just want to help, Jack.”, he finally admitted softly. 

“Hell of a time for you to give a damn.”, Jack spat at him, hands clenching.

“I know. I’m sorry it took me this long.”, he whispered, reaching for one of Jack’s clenched hands. Jack flinched under him, but loosened up after a moment to let his thumb press into his palm. 

“You remember how they taught us to breathe, Jack? In, one, two, three, four, out.”, he stood there repeating himself until Jack seemed to calm down. He helped him out from the corner, stopping when they were in the middle of the room. Jack was still holding onto his thumb, he remanuevered gently to lace their fingers together. 

His other hand drifted to the veteran’s arm, softly gripping the flesh there as he examined Jack up close. He looked like shit, worn out and beaten and broken, but he was still standing. They both were. His hands drifted upwards towards Jack’s collarbone, freezing as he shivered. Spreading his fingers, he laid his palm heavily onto his chest, feeling the warmth underneath the soft grey shirt he wore. He looked up into the man’s face, the scars on his face and the lines around his eyes. When did Jack get so old? When did the both of them get so old?

The blindness hadn’t changed Jack’s eyes. They were unfocused, jittery and a little unsettling, but they were still the same blue he’d always remembered. 

God. He used to love this man. 

His heart clenched at the thought. Maybe he still did. 

Would Jack love him back?

He moved softly, looping his arms around Jack’s torso, pulling him firmly close and setting his chin on his shoulder. Jack’s arms laid limply at his sides for a minute, finally lifting to settle across his lower back, pulling inward with the same force as Jack set his head down on Gabriel’s shoulder. 

The room was quiet, still. The only sounds he could hear coming from their shared breathing. 

“I’m here for you, Jack. We all are.”

“...I know.”

He pulled in Jack tighter, rocking gently back and forth as the man in his arms started trembling again. 

“I-I need help.”, he stuttered out, fingers digging into Gabriel’s back. 

Gabriel sighed, rubbing Jack’s back soothingly. 

“I know, Jack. It’s okay, I know. We’re here. We’ll help you.”

A sob escaped Jack’s lips as he burrowed deeper into Gabriel’s shoulder, Gabriel stood there for as long as he needed. He wasn’t going to let Jack do this alone again. Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is finally letting himself be taken care of, and Gabriel is learning how to reach him. He still has a lot to make up for if he hopes to win Jack's trust back though.


	8. Want

“He needs to leave his room eventually, y’know. It’s not good for him to be holed up like that.”

Jesse- as always when it came to people- was right. Jack was getting cabin fever, yet his fear of stepping outside was increasing each day. It was doing a number on his esteem and confidence as well as his depression.

“I can’t make him move, Jesse.”, Gabriel grumbled, foot tapping anxiously in the rec room.

Genji sat across the table, mask off and picking at some of the pile of snacks he brought with him whilst listening. Jesse was sat next to him, hunched forward onto the table and chewing at an unlit cigar while dealing out the next round of cards between the three of them. A habit they’d picked up again as their relationship healed slowly.

It reminded him of the time in between missions years past. Back when things weren’t this fucking complicated and headache inducing.

“If there’s anyone here who can make him move, it’s you.”, Jesse retorted, scanning over the cards in his hand before casting away his discard.

Gabriel’s brow knitted. Why did everyone keep saying that? He has no influence over Jack, no reason to be listened to or humoured. It was like speaking to a mountain and expecting it to move. It doesn’t work that way.

Genji fiddled with his cards, taking a few new ones from the deck before speaking.

“If I may, I found it was much easier to work through my emotions and circumstances when I had someone walking my path _with_ me, not just pushing me along from behind.”

Gabriel considered his words as he looked over his own cards, “He doesn’t like having people watch him struggle.”

“If he wishes to get better, he will allow it. Perhaps he’s just afraid of being alone?”

Gabriel sighed, setting down his hand (a loser anyway), and putting his head in his hands.

“What should I do?”

“Maybe take the old man out? Get him some fresh air and a chance t’ stretch and he’ll probably feel better.”, Jesse suggested gently.

“He can’t see, the concept of leaving his room terrifies him.”, Gabriel grumbled.

“Plenty o’ people can’t see, Reyes. He just needs to learn how to adapt to it.”

Jesse was right. Jack had to come to grips with his situation soon or he’d be stuck in his own fear.

“Losing one’s sense is not a thing to be taken lightly, but as Angela once pointed out during my own loss- at least he’s still here. He shouldn’t squander the chance he’s been given, Commander.”

Gabriel looked up at the cyborg in front of him. “When did you get so wise, kid?”

Ganji laughed, “I had a good teacher.”

Gabriel smiled, leaning back in his chair and thinking over his options.

He had to get Jack to believe in himself again, but how?

\-----------------------------------------------

He stood outside of Jack’s door, shifting anxiously on his feet as he tried to gain the confidence to knock. How many times had Jack already rejected his suggestions?

Sighing heavily, he finally rapped on the door- hearing Jack’s footsteps approach.

Moment of truth.

Jack opened the door, a gruff “Yeah?” filling the hallway.

Jack looked better, like he’d recently showered and shaved. A few cuts along his jawline showed he was still struggling to get the feel of it right, but the job was thorough. He still looked pale- unhealthy, but his body weight had been slowly increasing giving him a more robust appearance. He was improving.

“Hey Jack, I was- uh wondering… I’m about to go-” He winced at the sound of his own anxiety, jerky gestures punctuating just how bad he was at this. God, he felt like a gangly teen again. He took a deep breath, ignoring the way Jack frowned at him. “It’s nice outside and I’m about to head to the beach, would you like to come with me?”, he finally choked out. Success.

Jack’s frown deepened as he opened his mouth, shifting uncomfortably before closing it again.

“C’mon, it’s beautiful outside. I’ve got everything we need, we can come back if you get overwhelmed.”

Jack considered for a moment before speaking, “Just us?”

Gabriel chuckled nervously, “Yeah, unless you’d like someone else? I’m sure Lena would be more than happy for an excuse to go swim-”

“No, just you is better.”

Gabriel’s chest tightened. Jack was trusting him.

“...Cool. Do you want to change before we go or…?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.”, he grumbled before closing the door.

Gabriel let out a breath of relief in the hallway. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Perhaps Genji was right- maybe Jack was really just afraid of being alone.

His excitement was quickly overshadowed by panic. Christ, he’d be with Jack alone for a few hours. What if something happened? What if they fought again? What if Jack hurt himself and refused to ever leave his room again?

His thoughts were interrupted by Jack’s door opening, followed by him stepping out awkwardly in a tank and shorts.

Gabriel’s breath caught in his throat. Jack was covered in scars- his right side blotchy with burns and gouges that cut across his collarbone. Trophies from Zurich- and everything that came after. He’d seen some of it before, but never like this.

And yet, Gabriel thought as he stared, he still looked so handsome.

Gabriel’s thoughts were again interrupted, Jack clearing his throat nervously. “If you don’t say anything, I’m just going to assume you’ve left and go back inside.”

He jerked, sputtering. “N-no, I’m here. Just was…”

“Shocked?”

“Distracted.”

Jack’s face flushed red, his hands digging into the arms folded across his chest.

“You wanna head out?”, Gabriel spoke quickly, hoping to pass over what just happened. He didn’t want to make Jack uncomfortable.

Jack nodded, holding out a shaky hand. “Lead the way.”

Gabriel stood there a moment before comprehension dawned. Oh. Controlling his breath, he raised his own hand and tentatively pressed his fingertips into Jack’s own. Jack jumped at the contact, but quickly settled as he gripped Gabriel’s fingers.

“Just let me know what direction we’re going before we do it, I don’t want to trip.”

Gabriel squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

They worked their way through the watchpoint like this- Gabriel calling directions before pulling Jack along with him as they awkwardly held hands. Before very long, Jack was moving confidently alongside him, looking more lively than he had in weeks. Excited, even.

“Okay, we’re getting to the main doors. You doing alright?”, he asked.

“Yeah. Just keep moving.”

As soon as they were outside, Jack seemed to lighten instantly as the sun and warmth hit him. They took a moment, breathing in the sea air before moving forward again. Jack looked lost in thought, Gabriel wondered what was on his mind as they started down the trail to the beach. He shifted the bag on his shoulder, taking Jack’s hand more firmly in his own. The terrain was uneven and slippery and he didn’t want to see Jack fall.

“There’s a rail on your left there, there’s quite a bit of stairs.”

Jack nodded, finding the rail and taking careful steps forward, one stair at a time.

Gabriel caught his panic quickly, giving him room to move on his own and the patience to go as slowly as he needed to. “Breathe, Jack. You’re doing fine.”

Jack opened his mouth to snap, but reigned it in and did as he was told to. Taking careful breaths, they made it down halfway before Jack’s foot slipped on the worn stone. A gasp escaped him as he gripped tightly to the rail, abandoning Gabriel’s hand to grab at it. Gabriel watched as he froze, clinging onto the rail like a lifeline as his breath came in rasps.

Gabriel moved quickly, putting down his bag to rub soothing circles into Jack’s back.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I fell!”, Jack snapped at him.

“No, you slipped. You’re still safe. Do you want to keep going?”

“No!”, he shouted in panic.

He left it be, just continuing to soothe Jack where he could. Gradually, he calmed down, his grip on the rail loosening as his shoulders sagged.

“Do you want to go back to the Watchpoint?”, he asked gently.

Jack’s brows knit as his grip tightened again. “No, I-I want to keep going.”

Gabriel nodded, pressing into his back once more before pulling away Jack’s hand from the rail. “Okay. We’ll take it slow.”

Slow it was, Jack’s confidence had been eviscerated and it was showing in his movements. It was frustrating, but he did his best to not let it show. They still had the rest of the day to work on this.

It seemed like an hour before they finally reached the bottom, Jack’s confidence returning somewhat as the sound of the waves greeted him and spurred him on. Gabriel wonders how long it’s been since Jack’s been to the ocean or even seen one. He doubted he took time off to go and relax any time in the past six years.

“Where do you want to set up?”, he asked jarring Jack out of his thoughts.

“Ah, close. I don’t want to get wet though.”

As Gabriel layed out their supplies, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the time he took Jack to the beach in Los Angeles.

God, they’d been so young then- not even out of the SEP. Jack had never seen the ocean before and they ended up staying out until dark chasing each other in the waves. It had been something that brought them closer, but not yet over the boundary of friendship. Gabriel liked to think of it as the scene that kicked off their feelings for each other. Once he’d carried pride for that, but now seeing Jack curl up on the beach instead of impulsively throwing himself into the water gave him an ache in his chest. Things weren’t what they’d used to be, would never be.

He’d originally wanted to get into the water himself, but with Jack sitting so quietly on the blanket he found he couldn’t leave him alone like that. Instead, he reached into the bag to pull out some snacks, laying it down with some water bottles and invited Jack to eat with him. Jack seemed hesitant at first, but eagerly helped him to pick off the fruits and meats he’d brought with him.

“If I’d known you were that hungry, I’d’ve brought more.”, he laughed, trying to keep a straight face as Jack froze- cheeks full with food. He swallowed it down quickly, dusting off his hands as his face turned red.

“Sorry.”

Gabriel watched his demeanor change, the knife in his chest was back as Jack shut himself off again. He felt cold- even with the late afternoon sun beating down on them.

“Hey, I didn’t mean you had to stop. Take as much as you need, I’m done.”, he tried to reassure him, tried to bring him back from whatever depths his mind just fell into.

Jack shifted, finding a new position to sit in but still refusing the food in front of him. Gabriel looked away, turning to watch the waves on the shore and listen to the way the sound echoed off the cliffs behind them.

“Why are you doing this, Gabriel?”, Jack spoke softly- as if scared of the answer.

“What do you mean, Jack?”

Jack squirmed, running a hand through his white hair before letting out a breath.

“I mean all of this. The visits, the help, getting me out here… why? You’re not getting anything out of it.”

“What if I’m just doing it because I want to?”

A lie. He did want something out of this. He wanted Jack to smile again, to fight again. He wanted to see anything that would remind him of the man he used to love.

“Gabriel-”

“Jack, I don’t want anything. I just want to see you get better, it’s the least I can do.”

Jack gaped a moment before quieting, seemingly content to avoid the subject for a little longer.

Gabriel let a minute pass before getting up, knees creaking as he stood, shucking his shirt.

“Well, I’m going into the water. Care to join me?”

Jack startled, hands gripping into his thighs. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“C’mon, I won’t let you drown, just stand out there with me.”, he tried to encourage him.

Jack worried his lip a moment before nodding, reaching out so Gabriel could help him up.

“Leaving the shirt on?”, he teased lightheartedly.

“Yeah.”, Jack answered quickly, if a bit sharp.

Alright, sensitive subject. He let it lay, instead pulling Jack along with him to the water.

He stepped in first, the cool water lapping at his feet as he backed up into the open water carefully pulling Jack in with him. Jack gasped as the water hit him and Gabriel couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“You okay there, old man?”

Jack smiled, stepping out further. “Yeah, just a bit colder than I was expecting.”

They were out at hip depth and Gabriel moved to pull Jack closer, an arm curling around his waist loosely.

“Then maybe I should help keep you warm?”, he asked before realizing it, nervousness hitting him immediately.

Jack didn’t react quickly, the same smile sat on his lips as before as he waded through the water. He didn’t pull Gabriel closer, but didn’t reject him either. It was good enough for him.

It was when they reached chest-deep water that Jack started acting skittish, the current of the water pushing him off balance. Gripping Gabriel tighter, he pressed up against his chest and braced himself. The touch thrilled him, prompting him to squeeze his arm more snugly against Jack’s side and stand there as the cool water moved around them.

“Can we stay here for a bit?”, Jack asked softly.

Gabriel looked up at him, getting lost in his blue eyes and the vulnerability he was showing in them.

Jack was trusting him.

“Yeah. We’ll stay here.”

They stood there in the water, just enjoying the way everything slowed down as they took time to appreciate something they’d never had the time to before.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever think about retiring?”

Jack frowned, thinking. “Before all this? Yeah. Now? I don’t think it’s an option.”

“Why not?”

Jack grimaced, his grip on Gabriel’s shoulder tightening. “You really think there’s a happy ending for people like us? We’ve been fighting for decades. It doesn’t just stop.”

Gabriel hummed, considering his point. “I don’t know, Jack. Leaving this all behind doesn’t sound all that bad.”

“I can’t do that.”

It made sense, but Gabriel couldn’t help but mourn for the life Jack should’ve had. What they both should’ve had. A cabin somewhere in the mountains of Washington, a couple of dogs and enough peace to live out the rest of their lives without having to worry about the end of the world. It’s what they had talked about back in the beginning, before everything tore them apart.

“Can we go back? I’m cold.”

It took a minute for him to answer, moving to walk them both to shore. The sun was low, but there was still time for them to lay out and dry, picking off the rest of the snacks before packing up and heading back to the watchpoint in silence.

Jack moved tiredly, but not nearly as anxiously as the trip down. Gabriel smiled, happy at seeing Jack finally gain some confidence in himself- knowing that he helped grow it.

Jack was opening up to him- trusting him despite everything.

Maybe there was hope for them both.

When they finally reached Jack’s room, he didn’t want to let go of his hand. Not until Jack coughed nervously and pulled away. He wanted to stay, to be let into Jack’s world on the other side of the door. Wanted to be there to ease his nightmares and fears.

“Thanks for today.”, Jack spoke quietly.

“Yeah, I had fun.”, he answered softly.

“Goodnight, Gabe.”

“...Goodnight, Jack.”

Jack disappeared behind the steel wall, leaving him alone in the hall with his thoughts.

Gabriel hardly noticed the black mist curling off his fingertips as he leaned against the door, trying to hold himself back from knocking just so he could hear Jack’s voice again. See him smile and feel the warmth in his skin. He wanted to be let in. Wanted to see all of him.

He closed his eyes, pulling away from the door and setting down the hall.

Jack sat quietly, listening to his footsteps disappear as he leaned back against the door- the soft breath of Gabriel’s nanites curling around his fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on twitter!  
> https://twitter.com/Vertizontally


	9. Cold

It had been a couple of days since Gabriel came to take him to the beach and Jack was once again alone in his room. He found that this was his default theses days- the closed space providing him the safety he needed while coming to grips with the way things have recently changed. Up until a few weeks ago, he’d been hiding everything and now- well now there wasn’t anything left to hide.

The team didn’t know everything, but enough did to make him uncomfortable. He didn’t like being so scrutinized. They were waiting for him to do something, to slip up or have another incident. He was grounded from missions despite still being a good tactician and it made him feel next to useless. He had things to accomplish, information to gather- he couldn’t just stay here in this quiet room forever. It was driving him crazy.

He still couldn’t understand why Gabriel of all people was the one putting so much effort into his rehabilitation. He’d expected Angela, Ana- hell even Jesse or Lena to be the one bothering him at every hour, but instead it was Gabriel who was always there.

To an extent he could understand. Gabriel felt guilty for inducing his seizure and breaking his visor and was trying to make up for it, but he’d been given the clear by Angela a week after his discharge. Some residual nerve damage persisted, but in reality he felt better than he had in years. The migraines were manageable, the tremors in his hands were improving, and he felt more energetic. Other than the fact he was blind- there was next to no reason Gabriel should still be hanging around.

He sighed in his bed, reaching over to grab at the bottle of whiskey on his nightstand, knocking back another mouthful before replacing it.

He wasn’t supposed to be drinking- it made his headaches worse and did nothing for him, but it was one of those days and he’d be damned if anyone could take this away from him too.

He’d noticed the way Gabriel made it a point to clear out anything he found- got better at hiding what he had left. This was his last bottle and without his visor he’d be hard pressed to find a way to get more. He was in for a rough few days.

But he’d been through the withdrawals before. He could do it again, especially given the help the enhancements gave him. At least until Winston and Angela finished building the new visor they promised him.

Then he could continue doing what he needed to in order to make it through another fucking day. Even Ana couldn’t look down on him for that.

And god he was sick of it. Of having to deal with the way everyone saw him now- some kind of cripple. The way a room went silent when he entered or the way they talked to him.

He didn’t want their pity. He didn’t want anything from them, just to be left alone.

He contemplated that thought while taking another swig of whiskey.

Did he really want to be alone?

He snorted- being alone was the only way to get anything done.

New Overwatch had been sitting on the information Gabriel turned over for almost a month. Leads were going cold while they all just sat there. If he had his visor, he would’ve stolen the files weeks ago and left base. Done the dirty work the team was too afraid to do.

The people responsible for Zurich, for the Blackwatch infiltration, for all of it- were out there. Why was it that he was the only one who gave a shit?

Well no, that’s not true. Gabriel cared too, so did Ana, but they weren’t the ones losing sleep over the fact that those monsters still breathed.

Ana had tried to get him to “Leave the past where it belongs and focus on what we have now.”, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t relax until those bastards saw the barrel of his rifle.

So many lives destroyed, and for what? To take down an organization that was being dismantled anyway? Overwatch had been under investigation for months leading up to Zurich, both he and Gabriel were two steps from a court marshall. They could’ve just waited until the whole thing imploded on itself.

At least then there would’ve been some hope left. Some way for those inspired to continue believing in the good of the world, but no. Maybe that was the point. Disgrace your heroes and quell resistance. It worked didn’t it?

And yet he seemed the only one willing to strike the problem at the source. Bring down the corruption from the inside and get rid of the ones pulling the strings. It was the only way.

“We’re not executioners, Jack. That’s not our right.”

He took another swig, banishing Ana’s voice from his head. He didn’t need it tonight.

He jumps as a knock on his door breaks the quiet. Shit, what time was it?

“Athena, what time is it and who’s outside my door?”

“It is 6:27 pm and Gabriel Reyes is outside your door, sir.”

“Fuck.”

He clumsily scrambled off the bed, dizzy as he frantically searched for the cap of his bottle. How did he lose track of time? He couldn’t let Gabriel in like this.

Godammit where was that cap?

He shook the bottle, there was only a couple shots left in it and he tipped it back as Gabriel knocked again. It burned, but he wasn’t about to spill it somewhere while he tried to hide it.

He coughed, reaching for his desk for support as the dizziness hit him stronger than before.

Was he drunk? How much of the bottle had he downed before Gabriel came? God he couldn’t remember. He turned to the bathroom, intent on brushing his teeth and hiding the empty bottle before his feet twisted around themselves and sent him crashing to the floor- pulling down the desk chair on top of him.

“Jack? What’s going on?”, he could hear Gabriel asking worriedly through the door.

He groaned, trying to sit up but the vertigo kept him down. His head was spinning and he couldn’t tell which way was up- the floor was the only anchor he had.

He heard a frantic beeping through his doorpad and he shouted, trying to get Gabriel to leave.

The door hissed open as Gabriel finished punching in the override code.

There was clatter of plates on the desk as hands pulled the desk chair off his chest.

“Christ, Jack, what happened? Are you hurt?”, Gabriel asked him quickly.

“M’fine. Fell. Dizzy.”, he mumbled back.

Gabriel froze over him, his hands tense on his arms. “Jack, were you drinking?”

He huffed, “Forgot the time.”

“Jesus christ, Jack. You fucking reek, how much did you take? Where’s the bottle?”, Gabriel’s voice was rough, sharp. Jack shifted, trying to squirm out from his grip.

Jack shrugged, humming noncommittally. “Dropped it.”

Gabriel’s hands were off him and he heard shuffling by his head.

He heard Gabriel curse as he found the bottle, a hand returning to grip his jaw- fingers biting into the stubble there. He hissed, tilting his head back to try and pull out of the iron grip.

“Jack, how much was in this when you started?”

He groaned, not answering. Gabriel’s grip tightened.

“Jack! How much was in here!”

“Most of it!”, he spat out finally.

He gasped as arms wrapped around him, picking him up. He grabbed at the air frantically, barely getting a grip on Gabriel’s shirt as he was dropped onto cold tile flooring.

Gabriel’s hands were on the back of his neck as he was bent over, his hands finding purchase on chilled porcelain as fingers shove roughly into his mouth.

He coughs, jerking away from the intrusion, but Gabriel pulls him back sharply by his shirt.

“C’mon, were not doing this, asshole!”, Gabriel shouts at him and he freezes- giving the other man an opening to press back into his mouth. He thrashes, gasping as Gabriel holds him still- fingers reaching to the back of his throat and sweeping.

He gags, tears stinging his eyes as his stomach convulses and he finally vomits into the toilet.

It’s over quickly and he collapses onto his side, groaning. He doesn’t feel as dizzy, but now he’s achy and his mouth tastes like half-digested whiskey.

He can hear the way he’s panting- tries to hide himself as it turns quickly into panicked sobbing.

He fights off warm hands as they try to soothe him- loses the battle as Gabriel picks him up again, cradling him against his chest and stroking his hair as he coughs and weeps.

Gabriel is humming, holding him tightly and Jack clings to him- shoving his face into his shirt.

He’s shaking, his voice jittery as he chokes out apologies- begging Gabriel to not hate him.

Gabriel wipes at his tears, sighing. “I don’t hate you, Jack. I’m scared.”

Jack quiets at that, just pressing into Gabriel’s warmth as the shock passes through him.

“C’mon, there’s food in the room and you need to lay down.”, Gabriel helps him up, hand on his back as he brushes his teeth at the sink.

They eat in silence, Jack’s head is clearing up and all he can feel is embarrassment- curls up on himself in bed and barely makes it through a third of his meal before setting it down on the nightstand. He can feel the bed shift as Gabriel sits on the edge- grips his knees tighter to his chest.

“Jack, you have an empty stomach. You need to keep eating.”

He doesn’t speak and Gabriel sighs, the bed shifting as he leans over- startling as a hand runs through his hair, still damp from sweat.

“You could use a shower. Maybe some rest. You’re still pretty clammy.”, he speaks softly.

Something about it rubs him the wrong way- the way Gabriel is inserting himself into his business. The rage from the evening events rushes forward and he swipes Gabriel’s hand away.

“I don’t need your pity.”, he snaps.

Silence.

“I’m not pitying you, Jack. I just want to help. I don’t want to see you suffer like this.”, Gabriel’s hands are on his legs, thumbs rubbing circles into his calves.

He stays silent, letting Gabriel touch him as the guilt hits him.

He doesn’t remember when exactly Gabriel’s touch stopped being something he avoided- finds it nothing but relaxing as he massages his legs.

He shifts, breathing heavy as he leans back into the wall. How long has it been since he was touched like this? How long has it been since _Gabriel_ touched him like this? Full of care, sparks following every press.

He sighs, hands falling from his knees as Gabriel’s hands squeeze and pull. He can feel heat crawling up his chest and face, his legs spreading slightly allowing Gabriel to get at the muscle there. He can hear Gabriel’s breathing intensify as he gets bolder, sliding his palm up to rub at his lower thighs. He retreats quickly, and Jack tries not to look too desperate as he spreads out more. He’s gripping the sheets, trying to ground himself as Gabriel's hands return.

He shouldn’t be allowing this. Gabriel and he haven’t even begun to fix their relationship, he was puking up a litre of alcohol in the bathroom just a half hour ago. He’s still… broken.

But Gabriel’s hands are on his thighs and he’s hard and desperate. He knows that Gabriel can see, it’s not that difficult with the loose fabric of his sweats. Gabriel hasn’t recoiled yet, hasn’t done anything but slowly make his way up his thighs.

Gabriel shifts, hands sliding up to cradle his hips and time freezes. He’s not sure he’s even breathing.

Gabriel’s breath is hot on his face and he gasps, leans up slightly to meet him. He misses, lips making contact with the corner of his mouth and goatee. Gabriel is quick to fix it for him, hands holding him tightly as he kisses Jack properly. Softly. Hesitantly.

He brings his hands up to grip at Gabriel’s arms, sliding up to his shoulders and squeezing.

Gabriel breaks away, leaning back as they catch their breath.

Jack is squirming, hips shifting under Gabriel’s hands.

“C’mon, Gabe.”, he encourages breathlessly.

“This isn’t a good idea.”, Gabriel speaks and Jack whines.

“I don’t care.”

Gabriel freezes, hands stiff.

“No, Jack. I’m not- I don’t want to rush this.”

Jack groans in frustration. “You haven’t touched me in years and you want to just _leave_ me here?”

Gabriel’s hands leave his hips and he regrets his words instantly.

“I’m going to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The weight and warmth of him disappears and Jack barely hears the hiss of the door as he’s left alone.

Why would Gabriel want him?

He holds his head, knees pressing against his chest once again.

The dark is cold and thick- and it feels like drowning as he sobs into the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I wasn't expecting that to happen until a few chapters down the line but they just kinda did their own thing.
> 
> Come scream at me here https://twitter.com/Vertizontally


	10. Red

Gabriel stared down at the items in his hand, silent as Winston and Angela describe what they are.

“The full-face has been completely overhauled, he should be able to get a much clearer image and the HUD will filter vitals to him in real time.”, Winston declared excitedly as he pointed to the matte grey visor.

“The new harness should alleviate some of the strain on his neural imports. It will take the brunt of any malfunctions and allow him to shutdown the visor at will, making installment and removal much less taxing on him.”, Angela explained, showcasing the controls on the side of the harness. “Of course, he’ll have complete say over who can and can’t control the visor for him- the buttons only respond to those authorized. I’ve taken the liberty to add myself and Ana to the approved list, but the rest is up to him.”

Gabriel nodded, rolling the tech over in his hands.

“And this one?”, he asked, holding up what appeared to be a pair of blue-lensed polarized sunglasses with thick arms.

Winston beamed, “It’s for casual wear. It’ll allow him to see without having to keep the full-face on. Of course, most of the tactical functions aren’t available on this model- but it’ll provide basic information should he be caught in a fight.”

“It’s advised that he spends at least six hours a day without either prosthetics and for him to come in and get his imports checked at least once a month. I want to avoid any further unnecessary damage to his brain.”, Angela interjected.

Gabriel sat in silence, examining the tech and thinking.

“Do you have any questions?”, Angela asked gently.

He hummed, frowning before speaking, “Why are you presenting this to me? Shouldn’t he be the one here to ask questions?”

Angela bit her lip, glancing over to Winston who sat nervously scratching his cheek.

“He’s been… uncooperative.”, Winston explained nervously.

Gabriel raised his eyebrow, “Even with the visor?”

“We just want to make sure he takes this seriously this time. I don’t want to see him injure himself again- we might not be able to save him another time if he treats this lightly.”, Angela spoke seriously.

Gabriel looked down at the tech in his hands, exhaling heavily. “Let’s see what he says, then.”

\-------------------------------------------

Gabriel hadn’t been able to move from the entryway to the courtyard- focused on where Jack was sitting quietly, eyes closed and listening to everything around him.

He’d asked Jack to meet him here and now he couldn’t gain the bravery to approach him.

It’d been a few days since the disaster in Jack’s bedroom and honestly he’s surprised that Jack responded to him much less showed up. He hadn’t even begun to process what happened and what he was going to do about it, but the incident had shown him one thing.

Jack still wanted him.

He didn’t know how to react to that- had assumed that Jack had given up on him years ago.

He admitted with some guilt that he’d given up on Jack.

They weren’t in love anymore- were barely even friends. Back then the bitterness and anger ran deep- he’d felt completely alone as everything caved in around him. Hadn’t stopped to think about what it was doing to Jack. His problems at the time were simply overwhelming and by the time he was ready to admit he was scared, Jack was too far in his own issues to listen.

They’d hurt each other that way. By carrying too much alone when they didn’t have to.

He’s not really sure when they stopped trusting each other- but it had begun long before Ana had vanished. Long before they realized they were standing on a powder keg ready to explode.

This was his chance to try again, to do it right this time. They had freedom now- weren’t shackled by the weight of the world on their shoulders.

They’d always been soldiers. Enlisting at eighteen and giving every ounce of their energy and being into serving. For decades. No breaks, no time to be anything other than war heroes and commanders. It was their life.

The last six years showed them just what kind of damage something like that can do. What happens when your entire image and personhood is rooted in what others need from you- how you can be useful. No time to live as _people_. Always soldiers.

He’d become a mercenary- needing to be useful to something, somebody. Using his connections to put together a puzzle that would justify his means. Telling himself that everything he did was for the greater good, for the sake of bringing down the people who would destroy the world for the shallowest rewards.

In reality he’d been terrified of not being needed. Of having to make his own decisions for himself for once instead of for some larger cause.

And Jack?

Well he already made peace with the fact he wasn’t needed. He saw it as the end of himself, that there was nothing in him besides the soldier he had been molded into.

Neither of them knew what to do with the sudden freedom of losing their leashes. Instead of it being exhilarating and relieving it was terrifying and oppressive.

They clung desperately to what they’d been taught. They had always said they would die in the service in some blaze of glory and in a way they had- but there was no glory to be found here in the abandoned courtyard of a run down facility that no longer served them. Just two old and broken soldiers that never learned how to be _human_.

Gabriel shifted, passing the small bag he carried from one hand to another.

It was time to find out if there was anything left to salvage in this trainwreck.

 “Hey!”, he called out, startling Jack as he jaunted to the the bench.

“Sorry I’m late, Angela kept me.”, he lied convincingly.

Inwardly he grimaced, since when did lying to Jack come so easily to him?

Jack frowned, “I don’t have all day, Reyes. What do you want?”

He flinched a little at the tone in Jack’s voice, shifted nervously in front of him before sitting down heavily next to him.

“Ah… Winston and Angela finished your new visor today. They wanted me to show you how it works.”

Jack remained silent, closed off.

“I’ve got it here if you want to try it out.”, he continued nervously.

Jack merely held out his hand, a small tremor being the only tell to his excitement.

If he was in Jack’s shoes, he’d be pretty excited too.

He handed over the zipper bag and watched as Jack turned it over in his hands.

“They figured you’d need somewhere to store it when you’re not using it.”, he explained.

Jack rose his eyebrow questioningly, “When would I not be using it?”

“You’re supposed to leave it off at least six hours a day- doctors orders. Angie said it’d help minimize any further injury.”

Jack frowned a quiet, “Huh.” and Gabriel knew immediately that he planned on ignoring that advice.

Gabriel leaned forward, grabbing his wrist firmly, “Really, Jack. Do it. It’s as easy as leaving it off while you sleep.”

Jack pulled out of his grip, “I get it. No need to be pushy.”

Gabriel set his hands back in his lap thoroughly unconvinced, watching as Jack finally opened the bag and rifled through it.

Another thing he’ll have to watch for then.

Jack pulled out the full-face, running his hands over the surface of it and moving to place it against his face. He frowned, realizing the dataports were too short to connect.

“You’ll have to put on the harness to use it. It’ll act as a kind of master control and power diverter. Keep you from getting hurt again and make taking it off a lot less jarring.”, he explained quickly, snatching the harness from the bag and brushing it against Jack’s hand.

Jack hummed, gripping it and examining it with his hands before clasping it around his neck and jaw. It fit perfectly and moved with him when he tested it by rolling his head a few times.

Eagerly, he placed the visor in its cradle, startling a little as it locked into place with a click.

“There’s some buttons on the side here, they’ll only respond to you but you’ll need to turn it on and off.”, he pressed at the back of the ear cups, Jack quickly ghosting his fingers over the spot to find the controls. He gasped as the harness responded- spooling up the visor.

Gabriel could see his body tense, no doubt prepared for the jolt of pain that accompanied the old tech. No hiss of pain ever came, just a sudden jerk of his head as he realized that the visor was working.

Gabriel watched as Jack stared off into the distance over the low cliffside, body going slack as he took in the clouded sky and vast ocean.

His head whipped around suddenly, locking once more on the outcropping of plants and flowers that Lucio, Genji, Lena, and Zenyatta kept. He stayed focused a long while, Gabriel only moving to place a hand on his shoulder when he got worried.

“How is it?”, he asked gently.

Jack turned back to face him, the glowing red of the visor obscuring his eyes and locking away his expression. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anything but red.”, he spoke almost reverently.

Gabriel smiled and laughed, “Winston hoped that would be the case.”

He rubbed at the muscle of Jack’s shoulder, “Any pain?”

“N-no actually. None.”

He grinned, “That’s good then. Angie said to come straight to her if it ever gets uncomfortable.”

He removed his hand, reaching back down to the bag and pulling out the last item, holding it out.

“What’s this?”, Jack asked, examining the pair of sunglasses in his hand.

“Winston’s gift to you. He said something about you not needing to hide behind a mask all the time.”, he responded, pulling an arm out to show the hidden dataports. “It should work like a slimmed-down version of your tactical model if you need it to, but it’s mostly for casual wear.”

He watched as Jack turned it over in his hand, studying the tech carefully.

Suddenly he handed it over to Gabriel.

“I don’t need it.”, he said sharply while moving to get up.

Gabriel sat stunned as Jack walked away, leaving the bag and casual visor with him.

If he’d been a stronger man, he would’ve run after Jack and insisted he take the visor so lovingly crafted for him- demanded to know what was going on inside his head.

But he was not a stronger man.

So he just watched Jack’s back as he entered the watchpoint, vanishing around a corner.

He gathered the abandoned gear, carefully packing it away and walking back to his quarters.

He’d hold onto it until Jack was ready.

\-----------------------------------

Jack sat at his desk, pouring over data as he carefully tore down and cleaned his rifle.

The things was covered in set-in grime and he growled as he scrubbed at a munition stain on the muzzle. He’d let this go for too long, but now he had what he needed to finish the job he started years ago.

He glanced up, taking in the scroll of names and organizations as his computer sorted everything efficiently.

A careful man would carry out this mission over the course of a year or more.

Him?

Well he figured he could get it done in less than three months.

He finally had what he needed, just needed time to establish his plan.

Jack sighed as he abandoned the stain on the muzzle to continue examination of his remaining gear.

Much of it needed repaired and it would take time to gather the materials needed.

He grumbled as he leaned over the desk to grab a waiting glass, pulling off his visor briefly to finish off the cheap whiskey- relishing the burn it left in his throat.

He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all didn't think Jack would actually put the work in to help himself, didya? 
> 
> (This chapter feels really short and I'm sorry, I'm hoping to have the next one up shortly.)
> 
> Scream at me here! https://twitter.com/Vertizontally


	11. Demons

It wasn’t long before they started assigning him on missions again. Talon was still active and he was one of their most experiences operatives on base. It allowed him opportunity to test the limitations of his new visor- polish up his techniques. He did as he asked and didn’t ask question. Asking questions was Winston’s job now- he was just the muscle.

 

Gabriel had become fully integrated into the team- probably an effect of him being out of commission for so long. Plus, Gabriel had inside information on how Talon actually functioned and it gave them all just enough edge to start pushing back.

 

He’d gotten ahold of the press release from when Gabriel first fought alongside the new Overwatch. The public was buzzing, questioning why this lone mercenary had switched sides. No-one knew the truth, no-one knew who was behind the mask. It was causing a stir, some believing that Overwatch was employing him directly- essentially buying him out from Talon’s grasp. It was the most popular theory anyway.

 

In reality, Gabriel was trying to make up for his past mistakes. Trying to assist in any way he could. It also gave him the opportunity to hit Talon where it hurt the most and maybe get some revenge.

 

He could sympathize with that, though it didn’t make it any less a pain in the ass when they were on the field together.

 

He couldn’t get a moment to himself, not a single opportunity to raid for information or go for the heart. Gabriel was always there, always watching his back whether he liked it or not.

 

Their dinner “dates” had stopped. Jack was getting his own plates now- still not eating with anyone but he effectively took away the reason Gabriel had been coming to see him in the first place. Gabriel hadn’t tried to visit him for any other reason since… well since he broke down.

 

He’d been weak. Let Gabriel in too close. Couldn’t afford to do it again, not now. Not when his plan was in motion and he was just looking for an opportunity.

 

But demons linger.

 

He finds out while in the middle of a firefight. They’re losing, trying to retreat safely, but that fucking kid gets caught. Hana had been trying to cover them, warding away bullets when her shield burned out- the full force of an army descending upon her mech.

 

She couldn’t escape and he watched as she abandoned her mech, darting behind cover. Cut off from the rest of them she was a sitting duck.

 

So he ran.

 

He was returning fire, jumping to her cover and telling her to run when she screams.

 

Everything stops.

 

The last thing he remembers is looking over and seeing red spread on across her shoulder- then everything changes. He’s twenty-three again, the Omnic Crisis is at its peak and he’s watching as one of his squadmates dies right next to him. The OR-14’s are bearing down on their position and he’s the only soldier left that can shoulder a rifle. He’s defending the remnants of his team- only him and three others are alive, but they won’t be much longer.

 

The sound of the OR-14’s are being overlapped by the Heavy Tanks bearing down on their position, but he hardly notices. It all sounds the same- 50 rounds per second and he only has a moment before they all die.

 

Gabriel is there, frantically pulling at the wires in his gauntlets and trying to fix the pneumatics that make wielding his prototype shotguns possible. He shouts with frustration, ripping out the wires entirely and leaning against the concrete wall.

 

Someone else shouts in agony, and now there’s only him, Reyes, and Matsumoto left.

Matsumoto is injured, her leg shattered from the gatling guns of the E-54’s they just escaped from. For a second he sees red on her shoulder too, a uniform that is entirely the wrong color and pained brown eyes seeking out his own.

 

But it leaves as quickly as it came, and Matsumoto is on the ground lost in shock.

 

“Jack, look at me!”

 

He does, focusing on Reyes.

 

“Jack, run!”

 

The world stops for a moment as the sound of an explosion hits his ears.

 

Everything is ringing, there’s heat at his back and he doesn’t know where his team went. He’s laying behind a fractured partition and he’s completely alone, pulse rifle still in his shaking hand.

 

His hearing comes back just as a tug on his arm grabs his attention, he sees two panicked red-brown eyes from under a hood and there’s shouting.

 

“Jack, run!”

 

Reyes.

 

His body responds without his will, following the orders of his commander as he was trained to do. Never question, never hesitate, just do. He doesn’t even know where he’s running to, but there’s a ship in the distance and there’s someone waving to him from inside the loading bay.

 

He launches up the ramp, turning just as a cloud of black smoke and ungodly pink appears launching into the bay. He staggers back, still holding his pulse rifle and trying to take in the noise and lights.

 

There’s yelling, and he falls to the floor as the jet moves abruptly.

 

He sees a shape out of the corner of his eyes and he reacts quickly, pulling his rifle out from under him and taking aim from his place on the ground.

 

“Back the fuck off, don’t touch him!”

 

Reyes.

 

His commander approaches him, kneeling in front of him and pulling back his hood.

 

Is this his commander? Gabriel doesn’t have long hair, his eyes are the color of earth, and he doesn’t have  _ talons. _ The coat? The coat fits.

 

Gabriel speaks again, and he’s convinced. No-one speaks to him like Gabriel does.

 

He still has his rifle up, arms tense as Gabriel reaches for it, pulling it gently out of his hands.

 

“C’mon, Jack. Don’t need this in here, do you? We’re safe.”

 

He’s confused. Doesn’t know where he is, everything is familiar yet it isn’t. The sound of the OR-14’s are still in his ear and the ache in his back from the explosion is making it hard to breathe. The people watching him from the corner of the room are familiar, but he can’t find names. Doesn’t know why he knows them.

 

“Commander, I…”, he doesn’t know how to phrase what’s going on. His sight is fuzzy on the edges and he keeps seeing flashes of  _ something _ passing through his mind.

 

Gabriel jerks, speaking quickly. “Commander? Jack where do you think you are right now?”

 

He doesn’t  _ know _ . He can’t think, it’s hard to breathe, and there’s adrenaline coursing through him.

 

Gabriel takes a deep breath.

 

“Sergeant, where are you right now?”

 

He freezes, the words breaking through.

 

He knows. He knows where he is, but the confusion doesn’t stop. It gets worse as he pieces together the images in his mind. He’s onboard an ORCA heading back to base. He was under hostile fire, and Hana- oh god Hana.

 

“Hana!”, he tries scrambling off the floor, but two big hands pin him back down.

 

“She’s fine, Jack. She saved your ass and Angela is patching her up. Tell me what happened.”

 

He breathes deeply, trying to put it into words. It was a flashback, pure and simple, and it had nearly killed Hana.

 

“Jack,” his voice is softer, “where were you? Where did you go?”

 

He swallows a few times, trying to make the words come.

 

“Germany. I was in Germany. The Heavys… they sound like a pack of OR-14’s. We were pinned down and we’d already lost most of our squad. There was an explosion and then I was…”, he trails off. He came back to being laid face down in the dirt with ringing in his ears.

 

“Do you remember how we got out of there? How we got out of Germany?”

 

It takes a minute, but he does remember.

 

“The Crusaders. It was the first time we’d seen their barrier tech.”

 

Gabriel is nodding.

 

“But the explosion?”, there hadn’t been an explosion in Germany. The Crusaders had been called in and helped them retreat with their survivors. No-one ever went back for the dead. They were classified by SEP anyway.

 

“That was Hana’s mech. Remember she can do that? Hurl them out like some kind of nuclear yo-yo?”

 

He does remember. Why did it take so long for him to realize it?

 

He sinks into the floor, laying limp under Gabriel’s hands. Slowly, Gabriel lets go, moving to sit more comfortably next to him. He’s still holding his pulse rifle, balancing it in his lap as he exhales heavily. A wave of exhaustion hits him, but he shakes his head trying to stay awake.

 

“We’ll be back at base in under an hour. Get some rest, alright? I’ll wake you up when we arrive.”

 

He doesn’t respond, just slips away quickly to the darkness of sleep.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Gabriel stalks down the hallways of the Watchpoint, fury in his chest.

 

He doesn’t knock when he hits Winston’s office, just opens it using his old override code and strides in. Winston startles, looking up from whatever new tool he’s working on as a stream of news feeds rotate quietly on his computer.

 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Winston. Tell me you’re joking.”

 

The scientist’s brows furrow in confusion and he’s forced to realize that no- Winston is not joking.

 

“Jack has barely had two days to recover from panicking on the field and you want him to head a fucking mission? Do you even know what happened?”

 

Winston sighs, putting down his new  _ invention _ and turning his attention to him.

 

“Morrison had an emotional episode while under fire, but he’s been cleared for duty and can return at any time. We happen to need him in Brazil- the riots are getting out of hand and the military is threatening to intervene. We need someone good at negotiation, someone who can find a way to keep civilians from getting hurt.”

 

Gabriel stomps forward, slamming his hands down onto the desk, causing a clatter as items fall to the floor.

 

“He’s. Not. Ready.”

 

Winston didn’t flinch, speaking to his resolve at having to take up the mantle of Commander. If Gabriel cared to look hard enough, he’d see how the gorilla was already greying around his mouth and fingers. He was withering away much like Jack had when he’d taken up the position of Strike Commander nearly four decades ago.

 

“He requested the mission personally, Reyes. He wants to help and we happen to need someone of his skill. I want the best chances for success and reduction of casualty. Isn’t that what we used to fight for, Reyes? Finding peace?”

 

His teeth are grinding, smoke curling off his fingers.

 

Overwatch and it’s fucking  _ peace _ . Peace above all else- sticking its nose in where it didn’t need to. Where it was unwanted. The people of Brazil didn’t want some fucking half-assed Peace Corp coming in and making their decisions for them- they wanted to be heard. Wanted to stop losing their way of life to some corporate scheme that was just in it for the money. It wasn’t their fight and sure as fuck wasn’t Jack’s. They never dealt with revolutions. 

 

“We don’t play God, Winston.”

 

Winston stares at him over his thin-rimmed glasses.

 

“Isn’t that what you did, Reyes? Play God for the greater good?”

 

He jerked, startled.

 

“I did what I thought was right.”

 

“And how isn’t this right? People will die if we don’t put a stop to the riots  _ now. _ They can fight another day, but if the government steps in then there will be nothing left to fight for.”

 

Winston leans back, reaching for a holotablet and swiping it open to appear in front of them.

 

A man appears on screen, wearing headphones and smiling as he hands out roller skates to kids- advertisement for a free concert in the headline.

 

“Lucio Correia dos Santos hosting a concert in Rio de Janeiro- Charity event or call to arms?”

 

“He’s a freedom fighter. And he requested our help personally. Jack offered to mediate between him and Vishkar.”

 

Gabriel took a deep breath. He couldn’t argue with this. People were asking for help- reaching out to them finally. They were earning trust with the public again. They couldn’t say no.

 

But Jack… Jack would suffer. Anything could happen while they were out there.

 

He couldn’t stop it.

 

“After this… he gets leave. No questions, no emergency calls- just a fucking break for once in his life.”

 

Winston’s eyes widened before softening.

 

“I can do that. I don’t like seeing Jack hurt like this any more than you do-”

 

“And I’m going with.”

 

Something twitches in Winston’s jaw and he’s silent for a moment.

 

“Alright.”

 

Gabriel’s muscles relax as he pushes away from the desk, standing on his feet again. He’s relieved. He can work with this.

 

“Please don’t tell him about it. He’ll try to argue and he’ll win. I’ll deal with the specifics.”

 

Winston sighs, but nods. “You are right. It’d best to keep quiet. I’ll let everyone know once you’re gone.”

 

Gabriel takes a deep breath. “Sorry for yelling. I just… I don’t like Jack being stuck in this still.”

 

In the end, he respected Winston for doing everything he has. For trying to revitalize Overwatch and save the world- as lofty as that goal seemed. The world needed some heroes.

 

Winston smiles- an awkward thing that shows his sharp canines- something his kind aren’t meant for. Something he’s learned from being amongst humans his entire life.

 

“I understand. It’s just at times like this, we can’t afford to be choosy.”

 

Gabriel nods. 

 

One more mission then he could take Jack far away from all of this. Maybe teach him how to feel human again. Maybe teach  _ himself _ .

 

They’d given enough and he was tired.

 

He wasn’t going to lose Jack to this all over again.

 

\-------------------------

 

Jack woke up on the floor behind his bed, curled against the wall. It took him a moment to realize he’d put himself here- needing the sensation of being in a foxhole. Couldn’t sleep somewhere as vulnerable as the mattress when his dreams were full of screaming and bloodshed.

 

He’d lost a day of de-encryption that way, having woken up to his desk on the floor and his laptop broken.

 

It had been fixable, and it’s persistent beeping is what had woken him up now.

 

Making his way over to the fractured screen, he could make out the message.

 

It was done. His information had finally finished calculating and sorting. He had leads, names, schedules, locations. Everything he could ever want.

 

One more.

 

One more mission and he would finally be able to finish what he started years ago.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got a new chapter up for you guys! Sorry it's a bit short, but I finally found inspiration and wanted to get it out before I lost the nerve.
> 
> Want to come chat with me? Find me on Twitter! https://twitter.com/Vertizontally


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